So we chase butterflies,
That won’t ever land,
As we grasp thin air,
With unachievable hands,
Then we skid to a halt,
And don’t know where to stand.
If we can’t save ourselves,
And then we walk,
A distance apart,
I don’t like it either,
I swear, cross my heart,
And I’ve no mood to chase butterflies,
I’ve no mood to lose,
And I’ve no mood for emptiness,
Or to think of a path to chose,
So please choose it for me,
Tell me which way to go,
Because for once I’m lost,
And I wish for you to know.
© Copyright 2016 TwoStepz. All rights reserved.
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