Well, the weather outside is frightful.
You wish it were delightful,
but instead of feeling low,
let it go, let it go, let it go.
It doesn’t show signs of stopping.
Your arteries will soon be popping,
if you don’t learn to give up control,
let it go, let it go, let it go.
When we finally say good night
I won’t mope around and mourn.
Each present moment is all right;
into constant change we were born.
The fire is slowly dying.
Sh-t happens, I ain’t lying.
But it only hurts our fool ego,
so let it go, let it go, let it go.