sexta-feira, 13 de agosto de 2010

Of butterflies and heights

If one says he got butterflies in his stomach,
In my very case, honestly
(and indeed, very personally)
I'd say there's been a rebellion

... and they've taken over


They got me flying high,
The colourful wave pulled my hairstrings
just like a puppet,
lifted me up in the sky
dived over skyscrapers,
plummeted over scarecrows,
delicately hoovered over hay fields


Dunna where I might fall or find a place.

(Sh sh sh sh

There comes the night ! . . .)

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