Lyrics:

She summered every winter through a calendar from paradise.
A cheap, dress-up temp job, and a tan by cold florescent light.
Anticipation playing from a radio, it mocks her life.
I was here she scribbles in a rest room proves she was alive.
All the working girls are fine.
Sunlight shines.
Contemplating suicide or a graduate degree.
Answer, How's it going?
with, I feel sullen.
I feel sullen.
I feel sullen.