The patterned wings of butterflies
They try to reach the sun
Gentle dreams, they fade and die
Time cripples everyone
Nature's kiss, springtime rain
is slaughtered by the fall
And love exists inside the brain
The oldest game of all
Truth, it lives in a distant land
of snow and ice and burning sand
Life still wondering unaware of time
that's too soon gone
And ah, the wind, she stopped to stare
while beauty kissed the dawn
Death collecting in her fingers
all that she can touch
And the night is all that lingers
except the silent dust
Truth, it lives in a distant land
of snow and ice and burning sand
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