I see the shades that hide your eyes
Your eyes that gave me butterflies
Green like fading Aurora skies
Hidden by a "holy" demise
And your "holy" demise
Sees not the cries
Of degraded butterflies
Behind my eyes
And those butterflies have flown away
Into a sky of fiery gray
Over the place our hearts used to play.
Under the surface of every day,
I wish you would hold my hand and stay
Be my friend, don't go away
Into that sky of fiery gray;
A sky to which I have to say:
Aren't you better than this anyway?
Better in body, spirit, and mind?
Better than your so-called weak and your so-call blind
Do you even care about being kind?
Your shades only show that you were blind
To a part of you, you refused to find.
You think it was me who whined and whined,
But you're too holy and too refined
To see yourself as reality's kind.
With your head in the clouds and feet in the pines
You never saw me as one of your kind.
