Where are you baby, and where is that look in your eye
Where's my Chris Cringle, and where are you on Christmas night

And most of all where the fuck are my presents

Well you can build a snowman, and you can hang the mistletoe
But if there is nothing under my tree baby, well I'm afraid you'll be alone tomorrow

Most of all where the fuck are my presents

Late last August you asked me to go out with you
I wish I knew then what now I know is true
I offered you everything, the stars and the moon
Now I'm singing a different tune