So I should cut my wings to stop myself from flying away from these things that I can’t say, from these things that I must obey ?

I’m a butterfly.

I die each day

When I try to call “Mayday”.

No one else’s hearin’, or I’m talking too loud ?

I’m always stuck on a cloud.

Emprisioned out there, I can’t enjoy my freedom,

so I’m readin’ books of wisdom.

I find answers, but I can’t relay

on something that I must obey.

A new begginin’, a new life, an ignorant butterfly- the same end.