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's in their own backyard Oooh oooh I like to play in 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