The Holiday Song

And they kissed till they were dead
This ain't no holiday, oh no
But it always turns out this way
And how he was a wicked son
This ain't no holiday
But it always turns out this way
Well sit right down my evil son
But it always turn out this way

And then rolled her up in grass and trees

This ain't no holiday

About the boy who fell from glory
And let me tell you a story
He took his sister from his head

Here I am, with my hand
And how he was a wicked son
But it always turns out this way
Here I am, with my hand
About the boy who fell from glory
And then painted her on the sheets
This ain't no holiday
Here I am, with my hand