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We held hands when we walked down the gingerbread path into the forest, blood dripping from our fingers. We danced with witches and kissed monsters. We turned us into wintergirls, when she tried to leave, I pulled her back into the snow because I was afraid to be alone.

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I love touring in the United States. It’s dramatically different wherever you go. North to south you’re going from snow to palm trees.

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Silent night, holy<br> night, when the bough flies from the tree<br> and is hung everywhere, when<br> from tables the crusts fly,<br> when the gifts begin to tremble<br> because lovelessness walks through the world,<br> because it snarls at you, barks at you from the snow,<br> and the silver ribbons rip and the tinsel rustles silvery,<br> and the silver and gold, and a golden word<br> come to you on which you choke<br> because you have been sold and betrayed,<br> and because it does not suffice that for you<br> one is redeemed who once died.