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