A boy walks down the street, city lights reflecting from puddles at his feet,
Christmas is around the corner but his disorder makes him struggle to believe.
His family decorates from sixty miles away, he's got no presents or tree,
unemployed this year, he's got nothing to promise with, no reason to be discreet.
A fleeting dream skips across the lake, tears on his face, he's about to scream,
but he can hear carolers sing and he was raised to be respectful of his surroundings.
He stares at the 5th Street market, it's like wonderland from the movies,
he's a babe at Toyland, but the joy can't last forever so he keeps moving.
A snowflake strikes his skin, it begins to flurry and at first, it's soothing,
the bluesy hymns of Christmas lofi is almost enough to keep him grooving.
But krampus is depression, and once he sets in, there's a perpetual sense of losing.
The boy finds a park bench, sits, and fades into memories of when life was worth choosing.
His parents were smiling as he opened his PlayStation 2, kittens rolling ornaments nearby,
the nostalgic reminiscent reopened the flood and he'd just gotten the previous tears dried.
He wishes he could go back but time only flows downward, the memories show years fly,
he's thirty now and more hollow than ever, he's never been this low and it's clear why.
There's an elf on his shoulder, telling him it'll be okay, everything happens for a reason,
but on the bench next to him is a demon, and he says it only goes further south every season.
The boy quits breathing, trapped in his own mind, unable to find his freedom,
and they say when you pass that park bench you can still see him...