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'Twas the night before ChristmasAnd all throughout the houseNot a creature dared disagreeYeah, not even a mouseWith their communist DogmaWith their Soviet greedNo Christmas decorations hereNo presents under the treeDown the chimneyCame Karl Marx dressed in a Father Christmas suitSmiling broadlyRotting face, flowing beard, snow on his bootsSnow on his bootsHe said gather round childrenI have a secret to tellI know you've followed me faithfully this farBut the truth is wellYou must have thought I was jokingThat I was taking the pissYou all claim to think I'm a geniusBut a genius would never want thisSongtexteGuarantee the dreamGrinding down until it's all a tirade of decayPeople fed stuffLittle children don't condone and they don't obeyIt always ends the sameAnd little VladimirAnd little JosefAnd little FidelAnd little MauAnd little CheThey all realisedThey look like dickheadsAnd everything they had built now is slipping awayAnd that's whyThey decidedTo kill KarlAnd burn his fucking bodyThey blow out his brains and they scatter his remainsTell us all how it's not Father ChristmasThey blow out his brains and they scatter his remainsTell us all how it's not Father ChristmasThey blow out his brains and they scatter his remainsTell us all how it's not Father ChristmasThey blow out his brains and they scatter his remainsTell us all how it's not Santa Claus Aus Songtexte Mania