Today’s offering isn’t much to look at visually, but it’s the music that counts. It’s a lyric video, and of a most unusual nature: it’s a dragon’s Christmas song.

The song is the story of a dragon, once fearsome, who finally finds learns the value of compassion and finds his redemption in the forgiveness and love of the very village he once oppressed.

It’s more of a tearjerker than you’d think. Many of us feel so alienated by the world we live in that we think we ourselves must be the monsters. It’s a revelation to discover that we are loved despite all of it.

You’ll discover this song in our Christmas playlist, now, and for as long as SCIFI.radio exists.

Lyrics

Bet you've never heard a Christmas song like this before.
There is tinsel on their windows in the valley far below.
Tiny lanterns, little halos on the freshly fallen snow. 
I can hear them from my mountain, every prayer and every song. 
They sing peace on earth to strangers. I have not been welcome long. 
They still whisper of my fire. How I turn their night today. 
How the king sends all his riders. How they chase my wings away. 
I have flown from burning cities. I've slept in caves of bone. 
Yet tonight their bells keep ringing. And it sounds a lot like home. 
All the stories paint me crimson. Teeth of iron, heart of stone. 
But the cold cuts through my scales now. And I hate this sky alone.
So I breathe a flame for Christmas. Not the kind that burns a town. 
Just a river of soft amber falling gentle drifting down. 
I will warm their crooked rooftops. I will chase the frost below.
All I want this Christmas is a name in that glow. 
For once in my existence, let me be the miracle of snow.
There is laughter in the courtyard. There is music in the hall. 
I can see the giant evergreen through the gaps within the wall. 
It is crowned in bits of silver, stolen pieces of the stars. 
I remember stealing brighter from the heavens from afar. 
Once I swallowed constellations just to feel them in my chest. 
Thought that power was the answer. Thought that hunger meant I blessed 
every jewel beneath my talons. Every kingdom at my claws. 
Now my horde is cold and quiet. Just a museum of my flaws. 
From their chapel comes a chorus rising thin and bright and clear. 
All about a child forgotten. All about a love that draws you near. 
So I breathe a flame for Christmas. Not the kind that burns a town. 
Just a river of soft amber falling gentle drifting down. 
I will trace their wooden shutters right. An apology in gold. 
All I want this Christmas is a story that is told 
where the dragon at the mountain is not the villain getting old.
I remember one December when their arrows found my wing. 
I came crashing through their forest, broke the chapel,
cracked the ring of that ancient marble window where their colored saints would shine. 
Shards of blue and red on faces.
Every eye turned up to mine. They were crying, they were running, they were dragging out the weak. 
And I saw a young boy trembling with a candle in his cheek. 
Wax was spilling on his knuckles. Yet he held it through the fright. 
In his eyes, I saw my shadow in his hands.
I saw my light. He just whispered, "Please don't hurt us." 
And that simple shaking plea cut much deeper than their lances ever had. It's cutting me. 
So I left without the plunder. Left the treasures in their dust. 
Took my fury to the mountains. Took a lifetime to adjust. 
Now that boy is fully grown up. He is standing by that tree. 
I can see him through the rafters as the snow falls over me. 
He is lifting up his daughter. So she hangs a star on high.
Just a fragile bit of crystal like a promise to the sky. 
And I know that I could steal it like I stole the stars before. 
But my chest is full of thunder of a different kind of war. 
So I fold my wings like prayer hands. Draw a breath that shakes the stone.
If their god can love a manger, can a monster find a home.
So I breathe a flame for Christmas and it paints the clouds in red. 
Every guard upon the rampart turns his helmeted shocked head. 
But the fire falls like ribbons turns to lanterns as it flows.
Catching gently on their banners, curling warm around their bows. 
No more rash upon their chapel. Only light along the beams. 
I can hear the old bells answer like they are waking from bad dreams.
Now I shine my heart for Christmas. Let them see the gold inside. 
I'll let diamonds from my treasure roll like apples from my height 
to their doorsteps to their tables into hands that used to shake. 
All I want this Christmas is a peace I cannot break. 
So they open up the great gate. All their torches burning low. 
And that boy I once terrified steps out barefoot in the snow. 
He's holding up his candle like he did those years ago. 
And he shouts, "You can come closer if you promise not to go". 
Oh, now the children crowd behind him. Tiny cloaks and crimson cheeks. 
Someone ties a scarf around me for the first time in my weeks. 
And they sing a song of welcome. Not of slayers, not of swords,
just of strangers finding shelter at a rough and wooden board.
There is tinsel on my horns now. There is garland on my tail.
There are cookies on my talons. There is cider in a pail.
In the hall, they raise their glasses.
By the fire they sit and glow. On the hill, a ragged dragon finally melts into the snow.
If they tell this tale at midnight to the ones who still have fears, 
I hope someone in the candle says he was lonely all those years. 
And I will breathe a flame for Christmas,  Every time the night grows cold,
till the word for me in stories is not monsters, just the old one who brought gold.