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