4.I Box Up All The Butterflies
Lyricist:Peter John Hobbs, Jonathan Mark Owens
I find it difficult to relax in the summertime
With all the flowers in bloom I creep across the countryside
With my net and my bait and a pocketful of bailer twine
I break the promises I made as I box up all the butterflies
I ruin everything as I sit in a field of grass
In the spring listening to the beat of it's little heart
And to its wings struggling for air under an upturned glass
And I put a pin through its wings
And I bottle it up, I box it up and bury it in my heart
Just as I know my friends I also know my enemies
Are the birds and the bees and my own little insecurities
I creep around in the dark and I tear up all the dandelions
And I break my own heart as I box up all the butterflies
Tirelessly following its tiny butterfly tracks
Across the field in the spring with a plastic carrier bag
Full of fish, hooks and string I lay a little matchbox trap
And I put pin through its wings
And I bottle it up, I box it up and bury it in my heart
I folded up its furry wings
And opened up its little heart
It might sound stupid
But something about it made me want to pull it apart
I ruin everything as I sit in a field of grass
In the spring listening to the beat of its little heart
And to its wings struggling for air under an upturned glass
And I put a pin through its wing
And I bottle it up, I box it up and bury it in my heart
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