The sun doesn't shine as warm or as bright
The air doesn't smell as fresh or as sweet
The nights aren't as wonderfully magical

No wonder we fall to clear and present pleasures
No wonder we lead mechanical lives
Our world turned stale and faded to gray
A last few puffs of life pushed out and all curled to stone when once all was brilliantly colored, moving, breathing, singing, feeling.

There's not but a candle inside the Jack o' lantern
And just a man behind the mask
We show thanks in feasting and trampling our neighbors for discounted trash
There's no bearded old man watching your every move
If in pulling coal from a stocking out comes oil and diamond, then I believe in Santa.

The music box creeks to a halt
The plastic hero no longer saves the day
Those uncharted lands are just a back yard, a sandbox, plywood on metal pipes
Those fairies, just insects feeding on your mother's garden

A garden she pains to keep for you
For your health
Your health for your future
Your future for her child's child
A child who will one day feel the sun shine a bit less
And a bit less