When, I try to bag some butterflies,
A kid in me hops and flies,
I enjoy watching their flapping wings,
Of twenty colurs and ten sizes.

In sunflower fields I run like swan,
Pulling the dusk and pushing the dawn,
Barefeet and empty mind,
Happiness in fall, I find.

Then I open the lid and let them go,
Their feeling, I well know,
Tired, I sleep, dissolved in chill winds,
Like some orchid in cave of snow.

-Vintage.Lyricist.


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