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Wake up, it's Christmas mourn

Those loved have long since gone

The stockings are hung, but who cares?

Reserved for those no longer there

Six feet beneath me sleep

Black lights hang from the tree

Accents of dead holly

Whoa mistletoe (It's growing cold)

I'm seeing ghosts (I'm drinking old)

Red water

Red water

Red water chase them away

My table's been set for but seven

Just last year I dined with eleven

Goddamn ye, merry gentlemen

Whoa mistletoe (It's growing cold)

I'm seeing ghosts (I'm drinking old)

Red water

Red water

Red water chase them away