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Description
Miss Lady stops a while and gazes on the pretty flower,
She thinks it might be nice to sit and waste away the hour.
The darkness comes and as she rises up to leave the glen,
A butterfly comes floating down to rest beside her when,
It starts a charming melody, and invites her to sit down.
It changes all its colors, and it’s painted like a clown.
Miss Lady claps her hands, and adores its vibrant feathers,
The cotton clouds above, start to darken, come together.
The insect spits its melody and draws her even closer,
The rain is falling all around the girl and the composer.
She sees the torrents whirling and the plants it has ripped up,
The pretty flower’s missing like the sugar in a cup
Of a whirling water tempest, but still the fly plays on
Though its colors now are dripping and soon will all be gone.
Beneath the rainbow lies the cardboard body pulled by strings,
The mechanics of its form, balanced on a suicide swing.
Miss Lady feels the waves, as they rise up to her chin,
She knows it won’t be long before the water does her in.
And when the liquid’s dripping down the back of Lady’s throat,
She tears the wings of that foul fly and lets the body bloat.
The water’s swallowed downwards until the sky is clear,
And Lady can look forward without the slightest fear.
The inside of the butterfly has shrunken down to slop,
A maggot’s feast of refuse, that Lady leaves to rot.

Description
Miss Lady stops a while and gazes on the pretty flower,
She thinks it might be nice to sit and waste away the hour.
The darkness comes and as she rises up to leave the glen,
A butterfly comes floating down to rest beside her when,
It starts a charming melody, and invites her to sit down.
It changes all its colors, and it’s painted like a clown.
Miss Lady claps her hands, and adores its vibrant feathers,
The cotton clouds above, start to darken, come together.
The insect spits its melody and draws her even closer,
The rain is falling all around the girl and the composer.
She sees the torrents whirling and the plants it has ripped up,
The pretty flower’s missing like the sugar in a cup
Of a whirling water tempest, but still the fly plays on
Though its colors now are dripping and soon will all be gone.
Beneath the rainbow lies the cardboard body pulled by strings,
The mechanics of its form, balanced on a suicide swing.
Miss Lady feels the waves, as they rise up to her chin,
She knows it won’t be long before the water does her in.
And when the liquid’s dripping down the back of Lady’s throat,
She tears the wings of that foul fly and lets the body bloat.
The water’s swallowed downwards until the sky is clear,
And Lady can look forward without the slightest fear.
The inside of the butterfly has shrunken down to slop,
A maggot’s feast of refuse, that Lady leaves to rot.