You're running away again.
How far will those feet carry you in the cold?
Before you turn warm and melt
the frost beneath you.
And underneath it all...
you'll find solid, hard ground
waiting for something real to touch it.
Something as real as you leaving me...
every time you get scared
and nauseated about settling down.
Do you think the leaves in the fall want to fall from the trees?
Do you think they want to settle down on the ground?
The same ground you walk on, every time it gets cold outside.
They wish they could stay in bloom all year...
I am like those leaves, holding on until I can't anymore.
Holding on until you leave me in the fall...
and then I
onto that solid, hard ground...
waiting for something real
to touch it.