The night before Christmas, and everything on the line, Bitcoin was going up high, without anyone in pain.
The bulls had returned, bears sleighing left and right, now six figure Bitcoin a daily sight.
All miners were alive, hash rates were increasing, securing the network under winter skies.
Our Lambos were shining, parked under the stars, proof that HODLing beats long shitcoins.
El Salvador kept buying, more coins for their stocking, before dreams of more sets inevitably come knocking.
The ETFs gathered, their applications filled the air, it is a new era of Bitcoin, said Satoshi.
Our data on chain, so clear and clear, is cracked “HODL through 2025, great wealth will appear!”
With supply getting tighter, very few coins left to sell, it's the sound of adoption; The exchange rate of Bitcoin is going up.
When they were out on the charts there was such confidence, “A new high ever! This is our year!”
To the exchanges we flew, with poles in tow, the institutional FOMO already began to appear.
Investors were wondering if we could Supercycle, breaking the system with debt free from Michael.
Then who should appear in a slice decorated with gold? Who else but Trump with such an optimistic and bold plan.
“Strategic reserve!” he shouted with a voice, “America's future is with Bitcoin I'm sure!”
He hit the bulls when his spear was flying, “Merry Christmas to the Údaires, and to the refugees, good night!”
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Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas!
