When it's all been said and done, I just can't wait to see what kind of tree I'll be. No, I can't wait to see what kind of tree I'll be. There's no more cities, what a pity. You know, I think it might be best that way. Without those cities and their smokestack diddies these branches would have room to breathe and sway. Well, I'm going away. But if the wind keeps picking up like this, I'll have roots growing from my wrist, so I can't resist the way I've been giving up so quick. I got roots growing from my wrist, so I can't resist this anymore.
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