• He came here once,
    To see the tree,
    but it was already gone,
    politically correctness,
    had removed that which was once,
    oh so very free.
    That which was pretty,
    now burned to ash so fast!

    He could not save her,
    nor could he brave the crowd.
    So thick as a cloud.
    here burnt branches now lay,
    and they can all say,
    "We killed her, we killed her!"

    He cried and cried,
    for his loss so great,
    her beauty now gone fast,
    for her soul he cried,
    and now he rest,
    in the cold dark street,
    where none rest,
    for they are fleet of feet,
    but he lay, crying.
    and... dying.

    For this Christmas,
    so many lost meanings,
    so many a scrooge!
    For the masses,
    they have no feelings,
    no thoughts of healing!

    Come with me, Scrooge,
    and I will show you the meaning,
    of this true season's feelings!
    so many a healing!

    But still he lay,
    among the snow drift.
    no heat or hay,
    no food, no lift,
    for now, he lay.
    until the next day.

    Heads lift a new day,
    horses need new hay,
    and cattle need to graze,
    but for all that gaze,
    new light apraise!
    A new man is born!
    he is not forlorn,
    and brings healing in this place!
    just look into his face!

    Walk ten miles in his shoes,
    and you shall feel, such love!
    he made no foes,
    he gave only roses and dove.
    of olive branch,
    from a great ranch.

    "Wait for me" he says
    "I will come back somedays,
    and I will make ready a home,
    not just for some!"