Writer's Minor Holiday

Writer's Minor Holiday Thumb tacks spread out Across your hometown state Hollow tree at half mast Wait until wintertime Leaves a paper trail a licorice plant that's overgrown Like a cabin in the woods on a minor Like a minor holiday Woolrich red plaid wolf Irish whiskey glass Here comes my fine bright haired lass Like a trash fire burning and burning it My heart could never right the words never fail Tucked under your cap and for a moment There's a stillness before the room spins again 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 Minor holiday Transfer this weight Minor holiday Transfer this weight Going back and forth On a minor, minor holiday