I see butterflies through windows.
And I think all the time it's a hoax.
And I feel like a child on a circus ride.
Not knowing it's all just a joke.
I know the truth is a riddle.
Somewhere in forgotten hope.
But does it make any difference.
We hang by the end of the rope.
Streak across the window.
Like seeing a ghost.
Always close to zero.
Butterflies through windows.
I've walked the beauty of knowing.
Stood alone away from the road.
And it seemed like a foreign land.
When you're a soul returning to home.
Streak across the window.
Like seeing a ghost.
Always close to zero.
Butterflies through windows.
Like seeing butterflies through windows!
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