stranded here in Hartford Christmas Eve
the snow is falling on the planes
out on the t
unway as a man sings hallelujah
walking through the terminal, my ear against the phone
I leave a message 'hon, I'm sorry
kiss the boys
it's getting hard just getting home
there's a line in Hudson News
through the shirts and souveneirs
now I'm pushing through the fray
there on the shelf of magazines
like a beacon on the bay
is the smile of Rachael Ray
sitting in the bar with Marguerite
she weighs her pour and gives a wink
he mwerry christmas, sweetie pie
you're looking tired, what'll it be?'
and then she notices the recipe I'm reading and the smile of the chef
who looks as perfect as a new homecoming queen
Marguerite just taps the heels of her tired and swollen feet
she's a million miles away
where she can trade her sunken eyes
and her dirty strands of gray
for the smile of Rachael Ray
Rachael's gonna show us how it's done
in 30 minutes she'll be gone
Rachael never ages, never changes, never hints that anything
could've ever been wrong
pulling in the driveway 3AM, the kitchen lights left on again
I grab a beer and check the tree
but there's no presents underneath
and up the stairs a pair of empty little beds
and by the clock she left a note
said 'hon I'm sorry, but I think it's for the best'
and the snow is falling down by the blinking little lights
oh the joy of Christmas Day
now may the season keep you warm
may your memories never fade
like the smile of Rachael Ray
oh the smile of Rachael Ray