Is this what you wanted, my sweet butterfly?
Is this what you needed, old friend in the sky?
I'm floating away with the petals that have fallen,
to a place where dandelions aren't made for wishing,
where squirrels always eat from the hands of young children,
where the only games played are the ones where you're missing,
where the folks used to sway to the burden of our music,
where the people only lie when their eyes are too heavy,
where teeth stay crooked, where hair never stops growing,
where the fruit is free, where the drinks are well hidden,
and the only words said have all been well written,
'cause I've waited all my life and I'll never stop singing,
and I'll play in this rose brush until it stops storming,
because no one should have to be alone in the morning.
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