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How The Communists Ruined Christmas
Mïngle Härde
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'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 realised
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