From mine, up to the old driveway Looking for the holiday house Where a lot of friends have died Friends who were, ribbons in their hair Talked about a little doomsday And beyond the distance Hang my head, off of the ceiling Into the bittersweet, under the Milky Way La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la Up in the holiday grove Look at the pictures you took Ringing like the fire You will see their smiles Through an old driveway Give all your cares away Look at the skies above Look at the morning dove Look at another day Sleep it all away Now I go through the high cornfields Scratches that do feel real La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la La-la-la, la-la-la-la-la-la Drive on mine, up to the old driveway Looking for the holiday house With the moons on top Drive on mine, up to the old driveway Looking for the holiday house With the moons on top East to the holiday house We can go nowhere now East to the holiday house We can go nowhere now We can go nowhere now We can go nowhere now We can go nowhere now