the wind only blows when the cranes come through
the only time this season the trees dont feel the blues
yet in this one single gust with all their passion and lust
the trees combust
leaves realeased to do the dance of dust
they squigle and they squirm in this last dance of glory
look at them shake, dance, live and love
look at them groove and move on...


LOOK AT HOW I SHAKE, DANCE, LIVE AND LOVE