Imagine you were this cool old guy who loved children
Truly and deeply.
Loved every beat of the way they stiff little tick tock walk and the monkey
Talk and the roar of the buzz of the whisper of the butterfly why of honey and
Wonder and thirsty hunger they give you their hand with everything in it, and
Your heart lurches into give me a place to stand and I will move the universe,
Squeeze it down into the perfect toy,
To light the smile inside your I would give
You anything imagine this multiplied by every newborn smile in a heartbreak
World if you could be santa for every boy and girl imagine a magic workshop
Powered by twinkle of the eye drive quantum indecision and reindeer jive
Every elf in all eleven dimensions drugged and demented but working with
Manic precision a just-in-the-nick-of-time engine
(That’s why they call you saint nick),
And in the back of the sleigh a bag big enough to carry its weight
In wishes this is it, the delicious impossible minute when every child on the
Olanet is given the one perfect gift that says this is your world
– and you belong in it.
Imagine you could do this one wonderful thing.
But for the rest of the year that was all you could do
And the toys would go out and be used up and worn out and broken
And that was good, the way it should be, that was why you would build them
Toys were made to be broken, not children
And in the war torn days of the in-between year the names would change but
it was always king herod’s reign and his soldiers would go from door to door
with bloody swords while you all worked on through tears and horror knowing
you could never make it right no matter how magical that one perfect night.
What would you do?
Would you go on working?
When you could only give the one perfect minute
Better than nothing and who can argue with arithmetic
Or would you go crazy with the weight of anger and grief
Would you feel responsible, would you feel like a thief
Living a life so sweet, full of hard work done well
...These are the
Crazy santas who never give up,
Crazy santas mad with love,
Crazy santas
Get up at the crack of dawn work boots on march out onto the field into the
street get beat fight back get shot at don’t stop live life hot-wired crazy santas
are dangerous but it’s a dangerous world some people can’t help fighting back
whenever they see the weak attacked they live like champions in the army of
the never-had-a-chance.
Some of them pick up the gun.
Some of them live like saints.
All of them are powered by love.
All of them make mistakes.
Some say we need more magic minutes that’s the best we can do
But I believe we need to reach out for eternity we need to be
Crazy santas who never give up
Crazy santas mad with love
