for some reason, this song grosses me out but i still love it

AND YOU'LL PROBABLY DIE BUT HEEEEYY ON THE BRIGHT SIDE

the "you are fUUUUUuuuuUUcked" here is the best part of the song

So this Christmas
You wanna get em
Somethin sweet and sentimental

Aren’t you precious
And so thoughtful
So very nice

But lemme pitch you this
Instead of worthless shit
Maybe take the hit
And dip
Into those savings for a little
somethin priceeeeyyyyyyy

Gucci, Rolex, Tiffany
A rare illegal foreign cheese
I’ll buy you shit that’ll make you scream
Make your real life feel like a holiday dream

You want a yacht okay why not
A taxidermied ocelot
Armani, Prada, and Dior
Anything you want, I’ll wrap it up, it’s yours

This Christmas! Gonna spend every DIME
Because the finest gifts are
ONE YOU FIND ON A SHELF

This Christmas! Ain’t wasting my TIME
Tryin to read your mind and make you something myself

(Wailing)
This Christmaaaaaas!

This Christmaaaaaas!

Love on a Shelf

This Christmas
My wishlist
Isn’t so much about the gettin
But the hope that I can give

Saint Nicholas
A gift that
Let’s him know how much we love him
If in fact he ever really even lived

Santa Claus, you are magic, but you also maybe weren’t real
And you slapped that guy
Who maybe shit himself to death, look it up
We didn’t cover it
But he allegedly shit himself to death
Here’s a drawing 

Santa Claus!
You saved the pickle boys
And did a bunch of other stuff
And now you’re bones
But even bones deserve some love
So here’s a song
From me to you
Santa Claus

You… you look like you want to sing?
Do you want to sing?

Thanks Professor for that sweet, sweet song
I was a real sourpuss but now I see that I’m wrong

The holiday season’s not the time for holding grudges
It’s a time for giving gifts and eatin cheese and tasty fudges

I’m ol’ Saint Nick and I’m here to say
I used to be a bishop but I’m bones today

Every year I bring joys and toys to kids
But frankly there’s lots of other things I did


Saint Nicholas saved the pickle boys
Ain’t ya heard? I saved the pickle boys
Sounds absurd n far fetched but you sure as shit can bet
That Saint Nicholas saved the pickle boys

Now what’d I do?
You save the pickle boys
The pickle who?
The pickle boys?
Who killed the butcher too?
Wait did you kill that butcher?

Ladies and gentlemen- recently barreled by a psychotic butcher
But resurrected by the clown prince of Christmas aka ME
PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR
THE PICKLE BOYYYYYS

Song For Santa

Well I spent a Sunday shopping with my friend the lion tamer
Even though she snogged me nan
Then we popped into a shop 'n' met a baby named Magellan
Who was very, very tan

Magellan sold us boots and then he turned into a spider
Said that life is but a dream
Then he asked us for our emails
And he sent along an e-vite to his uncle’s (35th) sweet sixteen

Ding dang dong
This is the greatest song your pretty ears have surely ever heard
I drank some wine and fell asleep and when I woke I realized my brilliant brain had dreamt up all the words

Magellan’s uncle was a senator from Gary Indiana
Named Elroy Squirt III
He was confused about his nephew being turnt into a spider
So he asked what had occurred

Tried to reply but got distracted when the lion tamer
Put her tongue in Elroy’s left-most ear
Thank the lord me dear old nan weren’t at the party for this man
Because she’d surely shed a tear

Ding dang dong
This is the greatest love song your pretty ears have surely ever heard
Have you ever been regaled with as romantic of a tale as that of Elroy Squirt III
And the lion tamer and Magellan what a story so compellin'
Even if that spiderboy was far too tan

Elroy Squirt III

Wakin up in the mornin
Drag your ass on outta the bed
Got a little somethin somethin
A-thump a-thumpin up in your head
Your ass is all clammy
Spots poppin up a freaky color of red
Catch yourself in the mirror
Lookin only slightly better than dead

You vomit, brush your teeth
And then you vomit once more
Then drain all of the fluid
From your freshly sprouted sores
Thermometer is tellin you
One hundred and four (THAT'S HOT!)
My dude you’re on your way
To rap-a-tap-a-tappin at death’s door

You got the pox!
Uh oh! Oh no no no
Not sure how best to console ya
But ya got the variola 
And you’ll probably die
But hey
On the bright side
You got a couple new friends
Who will be with you til the end
Count on us 
Scabs n pus

People can go viral 
In a myriad of ways
Unboxing vids, getting kicked in the nuts
Or tweetin shitty takes
But you picked the one that’ll leave you dead in 
Seven to seventeen days
Tis the reason for your lesions
And excruciating pains

You got the pox!
Whoops, yep you do— 
And if you think you’ve had enough then
Just wait til those blisters slough and
Sure you’ll probably die
But hey
On the bright side
You got a couple new friends
Who will be with you til the end
Count on us 
Scabs n pus
Look at us
Scabs n pus

You Got The Pox!

Here left to lurch
Twixt two lovely swaying birch
Trees: Igor of Kiev
Husband to a wife
Who would face near any strife
To avenge his savage death

Olga
She murdered the whole town
We frankly are surprised
She hasn’t thought to chop us down

Olga
Sainthood she attained
But to cross her is to doom yourself
To join the countless maimed

She’ll off your family, Merc your friends
She’ll hunt your cat and dog and when
You think she’s finally calling it a day
She’ll catch you when you’re unaware
Pour acid down your underwear
And laugh because she’s jokerfied that way

She’ll lop your toes into a jar
And pack it up and mail it far
And on your grandma’s birthday she will find
A bloody box addressed to her
Containing nothing less than your
Ten piggies and she’ll lose her god damn mind

Olga
She may be a saint
But rightly pissed to see her sweetie
Split right up the taint

Olga
Legit she’s got no chill
Piss her off if you’d like
To experience being killed

She’ll simply make you poop your pants
That’s right she’ll make you poop your pants
And if you’re think that you won’t poop your pants
Just wait because you’ll poop your pants
Because she’ll make you poop your pants
And kill you once you’ve pooped your poopy pants

You’ll hear a knocking at the door
And when you ask who’s there to your
Relief it’s just your neighbor Joan Calhoun
You open up
IT’S OLGA! FUCK!
She’ll kick your shins and punch your nuts
Then skin you while she sings a happy tune

She’ll slit your throat like that one scene
In Gone Girl, know the one I mean
Where NPH is-- well, you get the gist
If it’s not clear the message here
Is if you hold existence dear
Make sure you don’t end up on Olga’s list

You Got The Pox!

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