| The days are getting shorter
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| The nights are getting long
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| The air is getting chilly and
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| I’m thinking of a song
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| The sun is low, the stars are bright
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| The winter wind is brisk
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| And I know that by saying this
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| I’m taking somewhat of a risk
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| But…
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| I can’t help it, I just like Christmas
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| The carols, the colors, the fuss
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| A stolen little knip under the mistletoe
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| I know it’s not supposed to be for us
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| I can’t help it, I just like Christmas
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| Making pretty window stencils with white dust
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| When sleigh bells ring, I like to listen
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| I know it’s not supposed to be for us
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| It’s not like I want to go and chop down a tree
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| Even if I did you’d say I can’t
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| But I got you a few things and I wrapped them real nice
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| I put them underneath the ficus plant
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| I can’t help it, I just like Christmas
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| The Rockettes kicking is a must
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| A chestnut, a roast, an open fire
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| I know it’s not supposed to be for us
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| I’d love to sit around in a red velvet suit
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| Little helpers helping me with this and that
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| I’d stop shaving every year after Shemini Atzeret |
| You’d never give me hell for being fat
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| I can’t help it, I just like Christmas
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| Eggnog and fruitcake, I could bust
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| The detail, the retail, the sweet sales that follow
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| I know it’s not supposed to be
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| It’s not like it’s like blasphemy
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| So what if it’s not supposed to be for us
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| I know it’s not supposed to be for us |