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The Butterfly Raiser - text

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Where the history of my land
Meets a spot of green surrounded by a shade of hazel
There, a faun plays with the air,
The magic of the mountain,

He told me that he tastes
The sweet and sour taste
Of the rainy clouds a-coming
And he told me not to be too sad when the storm comes.

Life is frail, it’s a creature to protect, he said,
In your hands,
Like a pair of wings made out of dreams.

He, he was a butterfly raiser,
And he’s running with his hair in the wings
To finally be back home,
Yeah he, he was a butterfly raiser,

And we’re running through the fields,
Through the centuries and the years.

No, no matter all the pain,
The struggle deep inside
And people saying you can’t make it coz,
One day you’ll spread your wings
And then you’ll fly away.

Life is frail, it’s a creature to protect, he said,
In your hands,
Like a pair of wings made out of dreams.

He, he was a butterfly raiser,
And he’s running with his hair in the wings
To finally be back home,
Yeah he, he was a butterfly raiser,

And we’re running through the fields,
Through the centuries and the years.

(Butterfly raiser)

He, he was a butterfly raiser,
And he’s running with his hair in the wings
To finally be back home,
Yeah he, he was a butterfly raiser,

And we’re running through the fields,
Through the centuries and the years.

Text přidal roman59

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