'Twas the night before Christmas
And all throughout the house
Not a creature dared disagree
Yeah, not even a mouse

With their communist Dogma
With their Soviet creed
No Christmas decorations here
No presents under the tree

Down the chimney came Karl Marx
Dressed in a Father Christmas suit
Smiling broadly, ruddy face, flowing beard
Snow on his boots
Snow on his boots
[Spoken] Stamping on an elf's face forever

He said "gather round children
I have a secret to tell
I know you've followed me faithfully this far
But the truth is, well
You must have thought I was joking
That I was taking the piss
You all claim to think I'm a genius
But a genius wouldn't ever want this:
Guaranteed misery, grinding down to totalitarian decay
The people fenced off into sections and cut down if they don't obey
It always ends the same

And little Vladimir, little Josef
Little Fidel, little Mao, little Che
They all realised they look like dickheads
And everything they had built now is slipping away

And that's why they decided to kill Karl and burn his fucking body

They blew out his brains and scattered his remains
And told us all there was no Father Christmas

They blew out his brains and scattered his remains
And told us all there was no Santa Claus