You demean me
You treat me so bad
Sometimes I am glad with thee
I would live with your angelic air
Sometimes the wine would get to my head
As I question if we can fly
Your words make no sense
They make me fly
And only butterflies make sense
If there were birds and bees among us
The prayer turns to a prayer
As we live in flight
A murmur turns to silence
Someday the silence will require a prayer
You don't make any sense anymore, babe
And we must come back down