He walked down the door
He was red and it wasnât blood
Even good days were cold
He was warm, it wasnât the cloak
She wore red and it wasnât blood
Even bad days turned hot
He walked down the door
It was silent and on floor
She screamed but no one heard
Bad days ainât about presents
My presents came from events
Say cheese, aim to the faces
Say cheese, ainât for moments
My presents came from bad taste
Bad taste for the ones at haste
Drag you back to my sled.
Donât worry, it wonât make a face
My deers wonât make a name
Come near, donât fear
If you donât want to hear, donât hear
If you donât want to see, it will still tear
Ho, ho, ho!
It doesnât need to be Krampus to be about you
I donât feed from cookies and milk, I feed from you