If I fall over when the wind blows or if I shatter when pelted by rocks then you suction yourself to women like a parasite.
You're the one that runs with your tail between your legs from one clap of thunder.
You lust after our blood, from one ***** to another, and I just feel bad for her now.
So I suppose you're right.
You are the statue and I am the leaves.
You're at a stand still and I go where the wind takes me.