Suicidal on Christmas

My rubber face could take a punch
I'm red thigh high to marabou
I'm candy-striped to slipper mule
My rubber face could take a punch
Candles electric, soft plates in plastic
Thawed shrimp and red jelly
This night could take forever
My rubber face could take a punch
The nylons are mantle-nailed
My vision goes all to braille
Shaved down to nightgown
Up in my bedroom - now
Sing, choir. This is dire. What's that
I hear on the roof? He's come for me
You'll think I'm here, but I've gone far
Far away now, far off in winter, thick
With icing, high, high in the sled, wet
In red velvet, steam rising off our hot
Hot hair, the deer's every little bell evaporating
Oh glory to bedsheets, I'm in excelsis! How
How the air doesn't hurt now. I know
This should sting so high up in space
I know this should hurt, but we're so close
Close in the sled. I cry, "Drive! Drive til I'm "