Lyrics
Pick up to six lines to make a card.
Your grandfather's guitar
Thinkin' about how funny I must look
Tryin' to adjust to what's been there all along
With the boat kiosk lady and her sleepy amigos
But it ain't a holiday until
You go to fetch somethin' from the car
Travel size champagne cork pops
And we're sweepin' for bugs
In some dusty apartment, the what's-it-called café
You can arrive at eleven and have lunch with the English
But it ain't a holiday until
They force you to make a wish
They say, "Climb up this"
And "Jump off that"
And you pretend to fall asleep on the way back
No, it ain't a holiday until
You go to fetch somethin' from the car
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