The Butterflies and the porcelain doll

Come and play with me

around the corpse of myself

Here´s a box of you

It´s made of dead butterflys

Please take care of it

I had to kill many

So forget it was mine

Rain smells like broken hearts

And mine taste like lemons

And your love hurts like hell

It´s painted stripes black and yellow

Remember that porcelain doll

Your daughter threw on the floor?

It was me

And it always will be

And the broken pieces of me

Shattered on the ebony

Remind me of those broken butterflies

And their beating wings´ melody

The glass in my galssy eyes

Is nearly broken

I hope one day when it falls

It cuts through your skin and bones

And the scars forever remain open

Come and play with me

around the corpse of yourself

Here`s a box of you

It´s made of dead butterflys

They´ll pierce your heart like needles

So regret it was mine

The Innocent, the Cold, and the Loneliness

Listen to the battering of the butterflies wings´

And to sweet lullaby of loneliness

The little absent girl sitting in the swings

Singing back to the loneliness that makes her cry

She does not know that the butterfly´s a moth

There´s such innocence in her pitch black hat

Such dirt in her finest doll of cloth

She cares so much about her creepy ragged doll

Ignores that she´s oblivious to what she´ll soon know

So she´s happy sitting who knows for how long

In the distant arms of loneliness, in the glimmering cold snow

IHG