The Car

Your grandfather's guitar

Thinking about how funny I must look

Trying 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 something from the car

Travel size champagne cork pops

And we're sweeping 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 something from the car