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.
A 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 11 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.
It ain’t a holiday until you go to fetch something from the car.