Writer's Minor Holiday

Thumbtacks all spread out across your hometown state A hollow tree at half mast Wait until wintertime, leaves a paper trail And a licorice plant that's overgrown Like a cabin in the woods on a minor Like a minor holiday Wool rich, red plaid wool, Irish whiskey gla*s Here comes my fine bright haired la*s Like a trash fire burning and burning it My heart could never write, the words never fail And tucked under your cap And for a moment there's a stillness Before the room spins again A 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 On a minor holiday, transfer this weight On a minor holiday, transfer this weight Minor holiday, minor holiday Oh, minor holiday, going back and forth On a minor holi, minor holiday, a minor holiday