They’ve filled my stockings with fake diamonds every year-
I wanted coal,
I wanted the chance,
I wanted it hard to live with gold.
They’ve fretted about my engagement ring
for seven years-
I said it wasn’t,
I said it wouldn’t be a beacon,
I said it quite loud.
But they’ve never let me have nothing,
always barking happy sales,
tellin’ strangers it’s an heirloom
when it’s not.