Всем уходящим в отпуск посвящается:

Friday fever dream, eyelashes to the moon
The clock is slowing down, the sun is setting soon
Everybody knows there’s really nothing left to do
And from my corner desk all I think about is you

Not till the hours strikes may I turn invisible
But once we cross the line we can’t be held responsible
Let all [bad word] break loose, let the sky rain snakes and toads
In just an hour I’ll be out of reach and on the road

Holiday! Holiday [bad word] 

Lift the carpet up! I’ll sweep the table clean
My legs are twitching with a transformation fantasy
Chase and catch the deer, dig my fangs into it’s neck
My shirt’s already red and my pants are soaking wet

Lock the closet tight and [bad word] the blood from off my hands
When [bad word] again I’ll carry out the masters plan.

Holiday! Holiday [bad word]