(Verse 1) Ole Saint Nick’s on the corner, nursing a drink, His coat’s worn thin, and he’s starting to stink. The reindeer split when the money ran out, Now he’s dragging that sack through a world full of doubt. The bells don’t jingle; they clang like chains, The streets shine wet with December rain. His boots leave tracks in the slush and grime, A man out of miracles and out of time. (Chorus) Nick’s on the corner, the world’s gone cold, A bag full of promises he’ll never uphold. The chimney’s too narrow, the stockings don’t care, And the season’s just smoke that hangs in the air. (Verse 2) The elves all left when the factory closed, Said, “Sorry, boss, this is how it goes.” The sleigh’s rusting out in a scrapyard lot, Christmas runs on cash, and Nick’s got squat. He’s telling tales to a barstool crowd, About the years he made the North Pole proud. But the kids stopped writing, the dreams ran dry, And now he just laughs when they call him a lie. (Chorus) Nick’s on the corner, the world’s gone cold, A bag full of promises he’ll never uphold. The chimney’s too narrow, the stockings don’t care, And the season’s just smoke that hangs in the air. (Bridge) He lights a cigarette with a match that fails, Mutters something bitter about reindeer tails. “Once, I was magic,” he says with a grin, “But even magic’s gotta cash it in.” (Chorus) Nick’s on the corner, the world’s gone cold, A bag full of promises he’ll never uphold. The chimney’s too narrow, the stockings don’t care, And the season’s just smoke that hangs in the air. (Outro) So here’s to the myth, to the man who tried, To the sleigh that broke and the dreams that died. Nick’s on the corner, fading away, But he’ll tip his hat and say, “Merry Christmas, anyway.” This one leans into the idea of Santa as a down-and-out figure, a relic of a world that’s lost its magic. It’s rough, sardonic, and dripping with melancholy—but it’s got just enough grit to keep going. Let me know what you think!