I find it difficult to
|
Relax in the summertime
|
With all the flowers in bloom
|
I creep across the countryside
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With my net and my bait
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And a pocket full of veil and twine
|
I break the promises I made
|
As I box up all the butterflies
|
I ruin everything
|
As I sit in a field of grass
|
In the spring, listening
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To the beat of its little heart
|
To its wings, struggling
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For air under an upturned glass
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And I put a pin through its wings
|
And I bottle it up
|
I box it up
|
And bury it in my heart
|
Just as I know my friends
|
I also know my enemies
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Are the birds and the bees
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And my own little insecurities
|
I creep around in the dark
|
And I tear up all the dandelions
|
And I break my own heart
|
As I box up all the butterflies
|
Tirelessly following
|
Its tiny butterfly tracks
|
Across the field, in the spring
|
With a plastic carrier bag
|
Full of fish, hooks and string
|
I lay a little matchbox trap
|
And I put pins through its wings
|
And I bottle it up
|
I box it up
|
And bury it in my heart
|
I folded up its furry wings
|
And opened up its little heart
|
It might sound stupid but something about it made me wanna pull it apart
|
I ruin everything
|
As I sit in a field of grass
|
In the spring, listening
|
To the beat of its little heart
|
To its wings, struggling
|
For air under an upturned glass
|
And I put pins through its wings
|
And I bottle it up
|
I box it up
|
And bury it in my heart
|
|
-----------------
|
I Box Up All the Butterflies
|
| The Boy Least Likely To |
