No! I'm the mother fucking Lorax I speak for the bees, These honey quaffing fleas don't got nothing on me! Please... I don't want your ragged old thneeds, I speak for the trees. I speak to the animals, The bears, And the weeds. And we messed up. So tear down those factories The awful smog pumping, billion dollar striptease. It's times like these Where nothing seems as it should be, Where we create to decimate What took so long to free. These lungs still breathe This heart still beats, See? See what has happened to the roots of our seed? I'm the Lorax And I speak for the breeze, The purple clouded, belly bearing breeze. To speak more specifically. Every time we cut past what we perceive as reality. The closer we press tightly Towards the open flame of insanity. So between you and me... Hold tight to your novelty You'll see things will work out eventually. Trust me.