Does it make you sad that when you blow
You push everything away from you?
Or does it make you frustrated that you don't know why you keep doing it.
You get angry and howl, you don't know your own strength
And you blow down trees.
But people don't see that you can be gentile
And guide kites through the extensive window to the heavens.
You can be a jolly old man whistling in the park
Playing with the birds
Or
You can do everything
Because you're everywhere.