(S)He speeds along faster than Neon light,
Flashing Metallic Red and Chrystal White,
In the Platinum Sleigh which can
Transform on sight.
Grinning with megalomaniac delight.

Santa's List was long this year,
The Slave Elves hidden in secret snowshops,
Had needed replenishing,
Many had dropped.
The "SleighBox" was boomin' on this Eve of all nights.

The stars like Disco Balls reflecting the lights,
The Techno trance, running the beat,
To the joyful prancing of Reindeer feet.
Rudolph took point, partner in this venture.
Had been for time, he was no backbencher.

Santa sped on, pumped up the volume,
Building up to the first drop,
(He)She couldn't help it,
Excitement was heightened.
They were flying high, couldn't stop if they wanted.

Must continue , before the sky lightened,
Reindeer snorting, picking up speed.
Santa was proud of the loyal steeds.
Well, here was the first on "The List"...

The Platinum Sleigh came to a hovering stop,
Santa gave Rudolph the standard hoof pump,
Before making the jump,
The wondrous one that got Santa in.
Adults and Children forever in awe.

How did Santa get down the chimney,
And/or through the locked doors?
Were the Slave Elves fed on Mince Pies,
Made to act as Super Spies?
Ho-Ho! Hee-Hee!

It was much easier than that,
He simply activated the "Tinkerbell Device".
That did the job, but they never would see.
S(He) always flew out.
But "Tinkerbell" didn't come cheap,
There was always a price.

But that was always reached.
By the people Santa served now.

Santa often remembered images past,
It had always been frantic but somehow not manic,
Christmases had seemed different then,
S(He) was supposed to "Give" and
"Deliver the Goods", but something was different Out of shape, bent.

A shake of the mighty head,
T'was but a memory, nothing more.
But images of where Santa lived,
Santa's own precious Grotto!
Where Santa would rest.
Then sudden visions of being held tight,
Little people talking about " shares" and "bonds",
Being shown other "Grotto's" but none Santa's home.

The little people being paraded, copying Santa's own clothes.
Being patted on the shoulder.
A sense of time in passing, a lost sense of self,
Where was Santa? In Santa's mind a door closed.

Santa's mimics had the littlest people,
Known as "Children" sat on their knee,
The little "Mother's" and "Father's" were smiling, but whispering angrily.
A sense of worry palpable in the air.
Santa frowned, something was not right,
Something was not fair.

Santa struggled to remember, but Santa was old,
Yet at the same time Santa was new.
S(He) struggled to remember but nothing came.
Then a sense of giving, a sense of "charity",
A sense of Saintliness not innocence "nicked"
A sense that ALL the little people were somehow being tricked.
Santa sensed shame.

But it was some...