Besedila: Blind Iris. The Tattered Tale Of Brown Butterfly.

Her world bounces up and down
Like a girl on a trampoline
Her dark hair shining
Like a preacher on Sunday
Her breathe smells like tangerines
Her nose is peppered by the sunlight
Her eye's the deep blue sea
When she drifts the mood is so soft
The warm summers breeze

They caught her crying
In the rear view mirror
On our way to a sandy beach
As I bounce between then and now
I see it's somewhere
We would never reach

They watched her cry
In the rear view mirror
There's no u-turn on a one way street
As I bounce between then and now
I see the lesson
They were trying to teach

Says rainy days look best
Through a window
Shut it tight
Leave the cold outside
She's just like the Mona Lisa
A million eyes could never read her mind
All she asks is for something beautiful
The truth is something that she won't believe
What she's got is something beautiful
How easily she was deceived

So I'd lift her up on butterfly wings
Let her down like a feather falls
"We won't listen to your mother say "No, no""
"Come on baby got to break these walls"

We'd climb high
Point to a star in the sky
"You always question but you never ask why"
"You're heart will never know until she cries"

"Come on baby got to break these walls"

Says rainy days look best
Through a window
Shut it tight
Leave the cold outside
She's just like the Mona Lisa
A million eyes could never read her mind
All she asks is for something beautiful
The truth is something that she won't believe
What we've got is something beautiful
How easily she was deceived

So I'd lift her up on butterfly wings
Let her down like a mountain falls
"We won't listen to your mother say "No, no""
"Come on baby got to break these walls"

We'd climb high
Point to a star in the sky
"You always question but you never ask why"
"You're heart will never know until she cries"
"Come on baby got to break these walls"

What she needs is what she really, really wants
What that is she really doesn't know
In the winter she waits for the heat
In the summer she Prays for the Snow
What she needs is what she really, really wants
What that is she really doesn't know
All she holds is all she's ever really lost
I think it's time she lets it go

Life is just a story made up by our brains
What we leave on pages is all that will remain
Long after we're gone it's read or hung up on a wall
Suddenly your life will be meaningful
With a pallet full of color
To show how she felt inside
She painted a plain picture of a brown butterfly