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 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 No, it ain't a holiday until You go to fetch something from the car