Dear Santa,
I have to tell you,
I’ve been really naughty this year.
I’ve sat on red bar stools
drinking quarts of cheap beer,
and wine and whiskey, too.

I’ve stolen, cheated, and lied,
though I have never killed.
I stayed on the streets being hateful.
My life was filled
with neon lights and drugs and bull
Being good was something I never tried.

Then there was a boy
with dark eyes and thick curls.
He said he loved me, forever.
Now I know he just wanted to lure
me to him. I still shiver
thinking about it.
Forever was one night as his toy.

So I have a few questions now Santa,
does all that make me a bad person?
Will there be any presents left for me?
Or are they gone, just because I like to have fun?
I’ll be good now, so for me…
You can make an exception can’t ya?