Mycelium Creature

In the Gray House forest, for two days straight, water leaks from skies. Shake off the moss, wake up your mate, and dance, and look in his eyes. But you don't see the eyes and you don't have a face. Wet is your fur and tight your embrace. Then you will find that there is no truth stashed in the Hollow's black mouth. Let your hand inside, take it out and read. Tiny black beasts on the whitest paper. Then run away because you need to shout the words that they whisper. To shout the truth, that's not there at all. That's up to you to create. In the prickly grass leaving the scrawl of your heavy 6 taloned gait. Sing as you run and shout as you dance. You're a freak, so let out a scream. Let the whole world know you've been born by chance of the tree and the forest stream. Chorus: Quick, quick, go bite a tick. Drape the ears over the cloak. We'll dance all night and we'll sing our delight. We the proud Gray forest folk. The Rain Song