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.