things I have been thinking about
A Butterfly's Soul
Is this just another sunny yellow dream,
softly seeping another moment behind?
Or is this the real color of my soul,
as she tries to look out one more time?
I see her saying goodbye,
like the shadows of the wings of the butterfly,
the most beautiful thing of the butterfly.
Waving years later you will suddenly remember,
it really was you with the dirty feet,
standing there whispering goodby,
and watching her fly,
off to the place where the circumstances,
sun spitting fire and winds meet.
Tell me how the winds catch this vague direction?
How to escape mine and your fake perfections?
You say her wings never stop the deep flutter.
You say quiet, be quiet and silent, and you too might imagine forever.
softly seeping another moment behind?
Or is this the real color of my soul,
as she tries to look out one more time?
I see her saying goodbye,
like the shadows of the wings of the butterfly,
the most beautiful thing of the butterfly.
Waving years later you will suddenly remember,
it really was you with the dirty feet,
standing there whispering goodby,
and watching her fly,
off to the place where the circumstances,
sun spitting fire and winds meet.
Tell me how the winds catch this vague direction?
How to escape mine and your fake perfections?
You say her wings never stop the deep flutter.
You say quiet, be quiet and silent, and you too might imagine forever.
