'Twas the night before Christmas And all throughout the house Not a creature dared disagree Yeah, not even a mouse
With their communist Dogma With their Soviet creed No Christmas decorations here No presents under the tree
Down the chimney Came Karl Marx dressed in a Father Christmas suit
Smiling broadly Rotting face, flowing beard, snow on his boots Snow on his boots
He said gather round children I have a secret to tell I know you've followed me faithfully this far But the truth is well
You must have thought I was joking That I was taking the piss You all claim to think I'm a genius But a genius would never want this
Guarantee the dream Grinding down until it's all a tirade of decay
People fed stuff --- condone and they don't obey
It always ends the same
And little Vladimir And little Josef And little Fidel And little Mau And little Che They all realized They look like dickheads And everything they had built now is slipping away
And that's why They decided To kill Karl And burn his fucking body
They blow out his brains and they scatter his remains Tell us all how it's not Father Christmas
They blow out his brains and they scatter his remains Tell us all how it's not Father Christmas
They blow out his brains and they scatter his remains Tell us all how it's not Father Christmas
They blow out his brains and they scatter his remains Tell us all how it's not Santa Claus