Where The Butterflies Go
Fluttering gracefully, without making a sound.
Higher and higher the butterflies are bound.
Wing's floating lightly, on the crisp air.
Fluttering wing's bigger, than butterflies body.
Don't ask me, to tip joyously through the daisies, or look for little fairies. Quite frankly I'd find it a bore.
Your always in never, never land, without even going, out the door.
Money is something thou needs to survive.
Love is something thou feels from inside.
Make sure when thou connect the two,