Santanic Cult Story -
- by Eric Stellwagen
"Die fatman Die!"
I shouted as I
Leveled my gun for another try
"You won't escape this time!"
Were the last words to chime
As good old saint nick started to climb
Away he flew, off on his way
Escaping from me on his flying sleigh
"Curse you!" I shouted "Next year you'll pay!"
That's how it all started, this 40 year war
Between me and that fat, bearded, man-whore
And will likely continue for many years more
All I wanted was joy, and goodwill towards men
All he gave me was sadness and a little red hen
And I declared a war right there and right then
I stocked up on guns, and bought lot's of ammo
I wore some warm clothes, most of them camo
And i layed down in wait for santa, then BLAMMO!
He came down my chimney with his sack full of toys
The toys that he'd made for the good girls and boys
And he went about his business without any noise
I watched from my secluded hiding spot
waiting for my chance to get off a shot
And when i took it, boy was the fat man hot
Enraged he was, indeed, even pissed
But enraged i was more at the fact that i missed
I fired again, but the fat man was mist
He'd vanished he had, into a cloud of warm gas
and made his way out the jolly fat ass
so that's how the first one came and did pass
39 more times this has happened to me
each time more elaborate and slightly more tricky
but the fat man always finds a way to be free
But this year was it, the 41st year
I'd finally catch him, and his reindeer
And i'd give him a very swift kick in the rear
Now i am waiting alone in the silence
For santa to come and commence with the violence
waiting, waiting alone and in silence . . .
- by Eric Stellwagen
"Die fatman Die!"
I shouted as I
Leveled my gun for another try
"You won't escape this time!"
Were the last words to chime
As good old saint nick started to climb
Away he flew, off on his way
Escaping from me on his flying sleigh
"Curse you!" I shouted "Next year you'll pay!"
That's how it all started, this 40 year war
Between me and that fat, bearded, man-whore
And will likely continue for many years more
All I wanted was joy, and goodwill towards men
All he gave me was sadness and a little red hen
And I declared a war right there and right then
I stocked up on guns, and bought lot's of ammo
I wore some warm clothes, most of them camo
And i layed down in wait for santa, then BLAMMO!
He came down my chimney with his sack full of toys
The toys that he'd made for the good girls and boys
And he went about his business without any noise
I watched from my secluded hiding spot
waiting for my chance to get off a shot
And when i took it, boy was the fat man hot
Enraged he was, indeed, even pissed
But enraged i was more at the fact that i missed
I fired again, but the fat man was mist
He'd vanished he had, into a cloud of warm gas
and made his way out the jolly fat ass
so that's how the first one came and did pass
39 more times this has happened to me
each time more elaborate and slightly more tricky
but the fat man always finds a way to be free
But this year was it, the 41st year
I'd finally catch him, and his reindeer
And i'd give him a very swift kick in the rear
Now i am waiting alone in the silence
For santa to come and commence with the violence
waiting, waiting alone and in silence . . .