Writer's Minor Holiday Paroles

Like a cabin in the woods on a minor
Like a minor holiday

Woolrich red plaid wolf
Irish whiskey glass
Here comes my fine bright haired lass
Like a trash fire burning and burning it
My heart could never right the words never fail

Tucked under your cap and for a moment
There's a stillness before the room spins again
Minor holiday, spin it again
Ride it out so you can tell

Wasted on the weekend
Making good time with my excuse
Where the plot lines are like dead ends
Floating in her eyes at the bottom of a well
Floating in her eyes ride it out for a spell
Going back and forth
On a minor, minor holiday


(Thanks to R for these lyrics)