This is a sad ****ing 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 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
[00:03.581]This is a sad ****ing song
[00:10.122]We'll be lucky if I don't bust out crying
[00:23.618]How does it feel?
[00:30.682]Your night light
[00:35.734]Your curling iron
[00:54.505]Lit up by the sweat of others
[01:03.321]For many's the day
[01:09.741]But not from November to May
[01:19.613]The floor is littered
[01:25.457]With woodchips and apple cores
[01:31.376]And hulls of acorns
[01:37.643]There is a chattering sound
[01:41.731]
[02:11.013]Because they were squirrels
[02:17.542]Real squirrels
[02:21.157]And there were thousands
[02:26.184]This isn't some kind of metaphor
[02:32.434]Goddamn, this is real