The air is filled with
Lingering music notes.
A silver flute in my hands,
And my soul quivering.

The whisper of a whisper,
A gentle, soft breeze;
I begin to play.
And I smile endlessly.

And the butterfly wings
Burst proudly from my shoulders.
And the butterfly wings
Lift me from my silk cocoon.

Perhaps no one knows,
Maybe no one cares,
But I am alive at last.
Alive and beautiful and free.

My silk cage of fantasy
And shyness and loneliness
Dissolves into the musical air.
I am shining, shimmering.

And the butterfly wings,
They set me free.
And the butterfly wings
Sparkle and dance.

My heart is pounding
And galloping and exploding.
The music is inscribed
Upon my soul.

And as my eyes close,
As my fingers fly
Across the silver keys,
My soul sings.

And the butterfly wings
Are purple and gold.
And the butterfly wings
Are silver and soaring.

Time is frozen,
Solid and cool,
As the music keeps playing
And resounding in my ears.

But the bell has sung,
My time is over.
I want to keep playing,
But the music is dead.

And the butterfly wings
Are heavy, heavy.
And the butterfly wings are dead and cold.