A silver wing.
The pretty little butterfly,
That flew right by our heads.
It had silver wings,
And golden antennae.
The pretty little butterfly,
Could have been sweet inspiration.
It sang a song of love,
And peace eternal.
We grabbed the pretty little butterfly,
We grabbed it and it did not fight.
It trusted us.
It's crime, trust.
And we destroyed the pretty little butterfly in our hands.
We ripped off it's silver wings.
And it's golden antennae.
We crushed it.
The pretty little trusting butterfly,
Was a trusting child once.
That simply wanted friendship.
And we destroyed it's dreams
The silver wings were promise.
The golden antennae were dreams untold.
And we crushed it.
We conformed it to our ways
The pretty little butterfly represents,
The many children who die in dreams.
And stop reaching for high stars.
To the concrete land of adulthood.
And we kill them.
Every day.
And silver wings fall like snow.
And golden antennae fall like tears.
We take them in,
And we make them like us.
Jaded, and disillusioned.
Adults.