Holiday Call

Is that you, my Lord
Hands on my knee, my Lord
Fingers running up my sleeve, my Lord
Asking me to leave with you
My Lord

I freaked at the festival, I'm almost sick again
Our memories are sighed away
All the tvs are stoned
It's no construct for prayer

Is that you, my Lord
Hands on my knee, my Lord
Fingers running up my sleeve, my Lord
Asking me to leave with you
My Lord

I freaked at the festival, I'm almost sick again
Our memories are found again
All the telephones are stoned
It's no construct for prayer

Bitch you know it's got to bounce

Don't lie to me, Charlize
I hardly know you
I know enough to stay away
No row a boat for you



Don't lie to me, Charlize
I hardly know you
I know enough to stay away
No row a boat for you