And I'm gonna fly and I'll be out of air, because my air is you, and I'm the flying butterfly where you go and then you get me out of my chaotic flight. There are so many dreams in me that hold the wings of the butterflies in the back and fly to the flowers that are sprinkled with myrrh.
I miss a rain of butterflies, to turn on me and to take my skin lightly, to get up in the air. Then let me light on you in your arms, slip and fall asleep in your arms with you beside me. And if not, if they fall asleep on a bed of grass, the sky will cry with stars for fear of disturbing their sleep?
