I write the b-sides

That make a small portion of the world cry

I like the sea-side

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

Cos someone told me that stones dont float



I like to sit out back

And look up at the squirrels in the trees

They dont like radio tracks

And they dont 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 needs in their own backyard



Whoo-ooh

Whoo-ooh



I like to play in the snow

I stick my hand in, now where did it go?

It might be mighty cold

But thats all part of not doing what youre told