When we were young and regarded the world with hope we came to feel pretty soon the burning of the rope The cosmos grew far too vast, our faces turned to stone engraved by sleepless nights and the chilling of the bone
We turned to the wings on the soft summer breeze small butterflies Melting all hearts disillusion tried to freeze small butterflies
Like the old Stonehenge rocks our circle praised the sun A huge canvas to warm us by the golden goddess spun
We turned to the wings on the soft summer breeze small butterflies Melting all hearts disillusion tried to freeze small butterflies
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