I am as a willow in her old age
Whispering curious questions in my rustle
When the Santa Anna's blow
Holding answers in my weeping

I am as a skateboard riding pug pup
Marvelous to those who can still find novelty in a one trick pony
And those who will never meet me
Because I **** everywhere else but on camera

I am as a the coming tide
Coming in eventually
I swear
So long as the moon will let me

I am as left up Christmas lights in August
All things equal I will be worthwhile again
So long as the owners don't move
And they still like blue icicles next year