I write the b-sides
That make a small portion of the world cry
I like the seaside

And singing songs that make you not wanna die
Throw a stone into the sea
And wait for it to come back to me

Better get out on the boat
'cause someone told me that stones don't float


I like to sit out back
And look up at the squirrels in the trees
They don't like radio tracks

And they don't ever talk down to me
Throw a nut up in the tree
Gonna fall right back on me

Well these guys know who they are
And what they need is in their own backyard


I like to play in the snow
I stick my hand in now where did it go
It might be mighty cold

But that's all part of not doing what you're told