The leaves are changing colors and crackling beneath my feet    and I am waiting to see which fate we'll finally create and greet    and the wind is shifting big fluffy white entities this way and that    and, at our best, we are sunbeams piercing through and striking each other precise and exact       And the moon is phasing, squishing and inflating this blue ball in space    and my dreams are ranging from burning this whole place down    to a pumpkin patch chase    and when we're dancing on the edges of our laughter,    on the curves of the night    you're like a star shining, so selflessly distributing all your supplies of light       And if they keep us here and try and tell us to be good and sit    We must go find what's left of the forest and run into it.       And how you are changing, at times it seems like your crackling beneath my feet    And how I am waiting for the restoration of the you I once did meet    and the wind has shifted my intentions until they've become something they once were not    and now you are a looming mountain in the background in the forest of my thoughts       And if I ever keep you here, if I ever tell you to be just good and sit    Please go find what's left of the forest and run into it.