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