Roaming around people young and old,
With gifts on their hands they hold,
While some other people young and old,
They live on the streets against the cold...
Shredded clothes with filthy faces,
Walking through life as if it's an unsolvable maze,
Why can't some of us reach a better taste?
And when they die,
They'll leave this place without a trace...
It saddens me that everyone can't be happy,
I wish everyone could just run through
a journey of life with a joyful melody,
But "WISH" is just a mythical word,
And I think it's the only thing we can afford...
It's almost Christmas time,
Some of us stands in a continuous line,
A line of people whose lives dwell in unfortune,
I hope this Christmas they'll be happy,
Because happiness for them comes once in a blue moon...
