real_grrrl

--Scream Of The Butterfly--

A creature made of sunshine, her eyes were like the sky.
Rabbit howls like something old as we twitch to her lullaby.
The scalpel shines in god's sunshine.
Street lights whisper pain.
Down here near the poison stream our god has gone insane.

She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair.
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares.
She feels it die, I heard her cry
She smiles like a child with flowers in her hair.
With blood on her hands into the sun she stares.
She feels it die, I heard her cry
Like the scream of the butterfly,
Like the scream of the butterfly, yeah....

sunshine a house in flames,
she likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same.
surgery in the house of dissection,
when your candle burns out I will resurrect you.
she runs through fields of daisies,
yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies.
who cares! cause the air is free.
when you get there will you kiss the dead for me?

there's blood on the moon,
and the summer is cold.
there's love in the room,
but baby that's gettin' old.
there's blood on my face,
sittin' on a dead shore.
a highway of emptiness and I'm gettin' bored.

there's blood on the moon, as we plan our escape.
the goddess in bloom handcuffed and raped.
there's blood in the bathtub, baby.
murder the king.
there's blood on the moon,
there's blood on just about everything.

sunshine a house in flames,
she likes it where she gets it but it's never felt the same.
surgery in the house of dissection,
when your candle burns out I will resurrect you.
she runs through fields of daisies,
yeah it's just a shame that they eat their own babies.
who cares! cause the air is free.
when you get there will you kiss the dead for me?

something cold is forced inside her,
a tear spills down her cheek.
stillborn songs of a dead dreamer,
hymns of the needle freak.

with sunlight in her hair she smiles like she don't care,
her dreams are liquid blue.
I cut myself again and again to remind myself of you!

she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair.
with blood on her hands into the sun she stares.
she feels it die, I heard her cry.
she smiles like a child with flowers in her hair.
with blood on her hands into the sun she stares.
she feels it die, I heard her cry.
~like the scream of the butterfly~
~like the scream of the butterfly, yeah~

I met an angel with a sawed-off shotgun,
wanted by the FBI,
we dropped some acid,
killed our parents,
then we hit the road.

~Acid Bath, When The Kite String Pops (1994)