Half a Holiday Lyrics


Your golden child is still our favorite smoker

Heading east of nowhere with a lovers rose

Heading east of nowhere in his sunday clothes

Heading east of nowhere with a lovers rose

Too weird to live

Too rare to die

Too fucked to care

A special brand

Of casualty

For your special brand

Of urban planning

He's a fortunate son

Silver spoon in hand

Such a fortunate son

Silver spoon in hand