This is a sad f*ckin' song
We'll be lucky if I don't bust out crying
How does it feel?
Your night light, your curling iron
Lit up by the sweat of others,
For many's the day
But not from November to May
The floor is littered
With woodchips and apple cores
And hulls (holes?) of acorns
There is a chattering sound
Because they were squirrels; real squirrels.
(And there were thousands)
This isn't some kind of metaphor,
Goddamn, this is real *David Woodhhead
Shellac - SQUIRREL SONG Lyrics
Shellac - SQUIRREL SONG Lyrics
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This is a sad f*ckin' song
We'll be lucky if I don't bust out crying
How does it feel?
Your night light, your curling iron
Lit up by the sweat of others,
For many's the day
But not from November to May
The floor is littered
With woodchips and apple cores
And hulls (holes?) of acorns
There is a chattering sound
Because they were squirrels; real squirrels.
(And there were thousands)
This isn't some kind of metaphor,
Goddamn, this is real *David Woodhhead
We'll be lucky if I don't bust out crying
How does it feel?
Your night light, your curling iron
Lit up by the sweat of others,
For many's the day
But not from November to May
The floor is littered
With woodchips and apple cores
And hulls (holes?) of acorns
There is a chattering sound
Because they were squirrels; real squirrels.
(And there were thousands)
This isn't some kind of metaphor,
Goddamn, this is real *David Woodhhead
Writer: Robert Spurr Weston, Steven Frank Albini, Todd Stanford Trainer
Copyright: Lyrics © SC PUBLISHING DBA SECRETLY CANADIAN PUB.
Copyright: Lyrics © SC PUBLISHING DBA SECRETLY CANADIAN PUB.
Performed By: Shellac
Language: English
Length: 2:39
Written by: Robert Spurr Weston, Steven Frank Albini, Todd Stanford Trainer