LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeThe Car
Your grandfather's guitarThinkin' about how funny I must lookTryin' to adjust to what's been there all alongWith the boat kiosk lady and her sleepy amigosBut it ain't a holiday untilYou go to fetch somethin' from the carTravel size champagne cork popsAnd we're sweepin' for bugsIn some dusty apartment, the what's-it-called caféYou can arrive at elevenAnd have lunch with the EnglishBut it ain't a holiday untilThey force you to make a wishThey say, "climb up this"And "jump off that"And you pretend to fall asleep on the way backNo, it ain't a holiday untilYou go up to fetch somethin' from the car
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