When the time comes to suffuse with cerulean, It'd better be us To come up with utopian Christmas. Never warned but It's always a hot mess: Lights, a decorous manner Of telling the truth, So bombastic each trimming Of your spruce! Yes, guests..If only With obsequious manners, And de minimis SADs. We will toast with Most tarnished of their plights To such a pandemonium! We will wager in candlelights To never cease This ferociousness over the feast. How can this be measured By what it seems In a moral world desperate To digest Everyone, given it a chance Until there's a fetid nuisance. So, it'd better be us.