the darkness of christmas night

I find myself sitting in a faraway room,
thinking a cancer thick in my mind
I can't help but find myself wondering
how I could have left so much behind.

There's an air out there, but I can't breath it
there's a livelihood I'm unable to be a part of.
There's an odor, reaching inside me,
there's some judgements I can never be sure of.

There's anger, but perhaps it's just poison,
in this place where I can't turn on the light
there's an empty feeling inside of me,
in the darkness of Christmas night.

I hear voices that I know not to answer,
there's questions I know better than to hear.
There's a hand trying to clutch onto my shoulder,
but I know that the hand is not near.

I hear children playing in a stonewalled home,
Calling out a strange man's name.
In the distance I can hear bells ringing,
and I wish that I knew their refrain.

I guess I hear things, every now and then
and I can tell that the voices are polite.
But I have some kind of strange defense mechanism
in the darkness of Christmas night.

There are footsteps up above my head,
I hide under the stamp of his heels.
There's laughter coming from high above,
a monster looming over a fresh kill.

There's part of me that knows this tradition,
left behind somewhere along the road
I know that I should be somehow welcoming,
I know I don't need to be alone.

I think that I can see a sign ahead,
the question is if I can trust my sight.
Because no one really knows how to read
In the darkness of Christmas night.

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