Tis the night before Christmas as I sit in Climax
A near 200 miles from Goldman Sachs.
I could sit and bitch and complain of no girl,
But I'd rather live with what's right with the world.
There's no pile of presents.
At my age, that's silly.
We had family dinner with our senior friend Billy.
We finished a roast the size of Alf
(Mostly from efforts of me and Uncle Ralph.)
I sit at the computer, the ferrets in their cage,
I turn to Facebook as the happiness gauge.
Some people are joyous and others are stressed.
Others post pics since they're terribly dressed.
Then there's a trend, intended to be chilling.
It's the internet bitches and their dreadful buzz-killing.
Ok, we get it, you're sad and alone.
But, don't be a pill, and we'll throw you a bone.
It's not quite ironic. It's far from a thrill.
When you type up a status and act like a pill.
You don't have to prove your life is forlorn
It's the internet, god damn it, go download some porn.
Good times are what the season's about.
If you can't deal with that, go rub one out.
And if firing one off doesn't quite fit your plight
LIVE FROM NEW YORK, IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT!
