Testo di 'Holiday House' di Bob Schneider

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

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