Awful sweet to be a little butterfly.
Just wingin' over things
And nothing deep inside.
Nothing goin', goin' wild in you, you know.
You're slowing by the river side,
Or floatin' high and blue.
Or may be cool to be a little summer wind.
Like once through everything
And then away again.
With the taste of dust in your mouth all day
But no need to
(
Read more... )