The Holiday Song - Lyrics by Pixies

Well sit right down my wicked son

And let me tell you a story

About the boy who fell from glory

And how he was a wicked son


This ain't no holiday

But it always turns out this way

Here I am with my hand


He took his sister from his head

And then painted her on the sheets

And then rolled her up in grass and trees

And they kissed 'till they were dead


This ain't no holiday

But it always turns out this way

Here I am, with my hand


Well sit right down my evil son

And let me tell you a story

About the boy who fell from glory

And how he was a wicked son


This ain't no holiday

But it always turns out this way

Here I am, with my hand


This ain't no holiday

But it always turns out this way

Here I am, with my hand