Shellac - Squirrel Song Lyrics
This is a sad *****in' songWe'll be lucky if I don't bust out crying How does it feel?Your night light, your curling ironLit up by the sweat of others,For many's the dayBut not from November to May The floor is litteredWith woodchips and apple coresAnd hulls (holes?) of acornsThere 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