Every year I shed you like a skin
to fall to the ground and be scattered by the wind
but I know you’ll keep coming back
your grand entrance like some aphrodesiac
and I love to watch you exit the scene
walking away in slow-motion in your dirty blue jeans
something about you just loves to walk away
but I don’t care about none of that ‘cause your kiss is like a holiday
I am still the same rain-soaked girl
who came at you with the force of a tilt-a-whirl
and you are still the same wall of man
I’ll be climbing you any way that I can
and I love to watch you exit the scene
walking away in slow-motion in your dirty blue jeans
something about you just loves to walk away
but I don’t care about none of that ‘cause your kiss is like a holiday
all these years I’ve been in this damn town,
you’re the one good thing I’ve ever found
and then lost and then found and then lost and then found again
and I love to watch you exit the scene
you’ll come back smelling of horses, sweat, and gasoline
something about you just loves to walk away
but I don’t care about none of that ‘cause your kiss is like a holiday
–Beth Wood, “Holiday”
