Oh, where have you been, pretty butterfly?
On wings all threaded with gold?
The world that you've seen is exciting and green,
so I'm told.
I
once had a love like a butterfly,
whose heart was never at home,
and though he loved me,
he was naturally destined to roam.
Then my own little butterfly,
delightful beyond all compare,
felt restless one day and went
away.
When the sun warms the heavens,
I gaze at the lonely blue sky,
expecting to see him
returning to me from on high.
The long winter nights filled with sorrow bring cold bitter
tears as I cry,
come back from afar on a gold shooting star butterfly.
Come back from afar on a gold shooting star butterfly.
