Holiday House

Bob Schneider

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    His spells weren't casting and the bait looked mighty friendly
    And he understood he wouldn't feel a thing
    And a fountain went running through the fog filled surrender
    And his mind went dingaling
    And his pride never vanished it just got hidden under layers
    Of congeniality and leather smiles
    While he was burning both ends down at the holiday house
    In the land of the crocodile

    While he was scooping out Godzilla's guts and lacquering up the podium
    He felt the cherub nugget of his pride
    He spun himself a hula dream from every lie he heard her spit out
    Everybody's somebody inside
    But who the hell was the gay guy with the shells down in his pocket
    And his teeth all made of broken tile
    Burning both ends down at the holiday house
    In the land of the crocodile

    And while the explosions weren't offensive they were leisurely correct
    And they knocked out all the sense he'd acquired
    And though the needle didn't hurt much and the electric rain fell
    He couldn't tell if he was happy or just tired
    And when the lights went out alltogether with a lurch
    He just collapsed on the floor in a pile
    Burning both ends down at the holiday house
    In the land of the crocodile

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    And the waitress couldn't save him with her tarantula dance
    And his friends all took a trip to the moon
    And his momma bought a tubetop ticket to the great beyond
    And said I'll be back boy on every afternoon
    And though his belly shook with spiders and the butterflies were damaged
    And they lounged like the dead in the bile
    He was burning both ends down at the holiday house
    In the land of the crocodile

    And thirty years of agony a candle in his throat
    And a thousand cheers from Satan's many friends
    Wouldn't help the ankle bites or bitter little treasures
    Because the road of life it never really ends
    So count your coppers sweetie and thank Jesus you're contented
    Cause the range goes right off the dial
    When you're burning both ends down at the holiday house
    In the land of the crocodile

    And everybody changes why they change is no ones business
    And what your business is is anybody's guess
    Just make sure your money's spent and every little turnip thought
    You ring out of your head is heaven blessed
    Then maybe all avoidance to the contradictory nature of the blues will
    Pass you by in sweet denial
    While you're burning both ends down at the holiday house
    In the land of the crocodile

    If this city had a heart which it doesn't I'd imagine
    That that muscle it'd be made out of coal
    And it'd burn like the ashes of the dead sun mutants
    Everybody's got to dig their own hole
    And if you're gonna go under well you might as well go under
    While you can still go under in style
    Burning both ends down at the holiday house
    In the land of the crocodile

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