Sitting here,
On Christmas Eve,
Major Migraine,
Mary Jane,
It’s a raining blizzard,
Up in New England,
550 Miles to go,
Until I’m celebrating Christmas.
A lot on my mind.
Mostly wasting time,
Tired and few rhymes,
Lazy without a sign.
So I waited for Saint. Nicholas
Near the sealed fireplace,
Unreliable he was,
Probably fed up and sick of it.
So it was,
I would begin buying presents for my loved ones.