Like the Painted Lady butterfly
Through hell and turmoil I shall fly
Through a gossamer or windy storm
To get back to the place where I was born
...
No Floating Seed
Like the Painted Lady butterfly
Through hell and turmoil I shall fly
Through a gossamer or windy storm
To get back to the place where I was born
Although I once tried to be like a weed
Projecting freely to a floating seed
growing its roots wherever it shall fall
I cannot be like this, no not at all
Because I have always had a home it seems to be
And that's with you when your'e with me