Turning onto North Woodland Heights Drive,
Leaving a dear friend whose kitchen caught,
I thought, this Christmas Eve, how tough it is;
This time of year, that is.

Then at the stop sign, I noticed a car
That cuts across me into the cemetery
Another, deeper in, visits their loved one;
They run parallel to me.

If you come out alive
Or lose a beloved life,
This time of year is rough;
And Jesus Christ is born in us.