When we were young and regarded the world with hope    we came to feel pretty soon the burning of the rope    The cosmos grew far too vast, our faces turned to stone    engraved by sleepless nights and the chilling of the bone       We turned to the wings on the soft summer breeze    small butterflies    Melting all hearts disillusion tried to freeze    small butterflies       Like the old Stonehenge rocks    our circle praised the sun    A huge canvas to warm us by the golden goddess spun       We turned to the wings on the soft summer breeze    small butterflies    Melting all hearts disillusion tried to freeze    small butterflies