At the End of the Holiday Songtext
von Tim Bowness
At the End of the Holiday Songtext
Jack is looking out to see
Hoping for peace and mystery
She feels alright when the days are bright
Her mother sleeping on the bench
A solid rock, an awful ranch
A source of might with a grip so tight
At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before real life feels real again
She feels the breeze collides[?] her skin
Wishes she wasn′t quite so thin
Her bone stick out her dress [?]
She knows by now she can never win
She's only here because of him
With his laughing face and his hand so strong
At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before your life feels real again
Far away from the nightclub-dim
Far from where the tourists sing
By the cafe by the rocks she sits
In a week she′ll be on track
He'll be boasting that he's made of [?]
Something this lies and [?] can [?]
At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before your real life feels real again
Her mother sleeping on the bench
A precious friend, a saucy wrench
Her frame looks light in the evening light
Hoping for peace and mystery
She feels alright when the days are bright
Her mother sleeping on the bench
A solid rock, an awful ranch
A source of might with a grip so tight
At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before real life feels real again
She feels the breeze collides[?] her skin
Wishes she wasn′t quite so thin
Her bone stick out her dress [?]
She knows by now she can never win
She's only here because of him
With his laughing face and his hand so strong
At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before your life feels real again
Far away from the nightclub-dim
Far from where the tourists sing
By the cafe by the rocks she sits
In a week she′ll be on track
He'll be boasting that he's made of [?]
Something this lies and [?] can [?]
At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before your real life feels real again
Her mother sleeping on the bench
A precious friend, a saucy wrench
Her frame looks light in the evening light
Writer(s): Tim Bowness, Andrew Geoffrey Keeling Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com