Chasing after angels, breathe in blue skies.

Listen to the cries of those doves, ghosts

of yesterday's sorrow. How can one life

die while another has a chance to experience

a snowfall? Free enough to exhale, butterflies

and fireflies show remorse for the dead. Made

from the start to fade away, time grows old very

quickly. Dawn kisses the ground without making

a sound. Wow, the future is now. Go ahead and

grow up into a hollow willow tree. Somewhere over

the moon, somewhere over the rainbow, trade in burdens

for a much more brighter tomorrow.