At The End Of The Holiday

Jackie’s looking out to sea
Hoping for peace and mystery
She feels alright when the days are bright

Her Mother’s sleeping on the bench
A solid rock, an awful wrench;
A source of might with a grip so tight

At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before real life feels real again

She feels the breeze caress her skin
Wishes she wasn’t quite so thin
Her bones stick out, her dress sits wrong

She knows by now she can never win
She’s only here because of him
With his laughing face and his hands so strong

At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before real life feels real again

Far away from the nightclub din
Far from where the tourists sing
By the cafe by the rocks, she sits

In a week she’ll be back on track
He’ll be boasting that he’s made a stack
Sometimes his lies and hers can fit

At the end of the holiday (at the end)
At the end of the hardest year (at the end)
Before real life feels real again

Her Mother’s sleeping on the bench
A precious friend, a saucy wench;
Her frame looks slight in the evening light