Don't you feel again the glow of knowing you're on holiday
And you ran around in your nightclothes like when you were nine
And you don't know what it is that maybe, could be coming
Just like Christmas it is, a good surprise for tearing open
No school today only childhood things
No blue sky but happy, happy is
Maybe the thrill of what snow was
Coming back a little bit
Maybe the thrill of what happy, happy was-
Winter at nine
No one's angry in this morning light it's almost like the thrill
Of smashing up your wooden sled, surviving the spill
Barefoot on the Persian rug, I brush my hair until I glow
There is nothing to be done today, no place left to go
No school today only childhood things
No blue sky but happy, happy is
Maybe the thrill of what snow was
Coming back a little bit
Maybe the thrill of what happy, happy was-
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