All I wanted was a reason to stay, all I needed was a one word answer. And all you gave me was an empty hand gesture. So you can take your middle finger and shove it where the sun don’t shine. All I gave you was my heart and my trust, all I received was a lump of coal in a sock. Who are you, Santa? So you can take your black little soul and put it through a shredder again. You ate your words and then you ate mine, you’d think you were Pac Man! Poor little yellow dude got shown up in his own game!
So here’s to our failed relationship, your finger, and your heart:
I hope on Christmas Eve Santa, the real Santa, swings by your house (to drop off Fairy Princess Barbie for you) and runs over you with his sleigh. Then, I hope Pac Man chases you around like the cute hard-working middle-class American he is and eats you whole.