Les jardins sauvages (IV): ... and burn your bridges down

(Não, não há coincidências. Acabei de pôr aqui esta imagem para começar a escrever e o rádio respondeu-me com The Misson UK: Butterfly on a wheel. Seja. Aqui fica a letra. Afinal, era disto que eu ia falar.

Every angel has the wish that she's never been kissed
A broken dream haunting in your sleep
And hiding in your smile a secret you must keep,
love cuts you deep
Love breaks the wings of a butterfly on a wheel
Love breaks the wings of a butterfly on a wheel

There's no scarlet in you, lay your veil down for me
As sure as god made wine, you can't wrap your arms around a memory
Take warmth from me, cold autumn wind cut sharp as a knife
And in the dark for me, you're the candle flame that flickers to life
Love breaks the wings of a butterfly on a wheel
Love breaks the wings of a butterfly on a wheel

Wise man say all is fair in love and war
There's no right or wrong in the design of love
And I could only watch as the wind crushed your wings
Broken and torn, crushed like a flower under the snow
And like the flower in spring
Love will rise again to heal your wings
Love heals the wings of a butterfly on a wheel
Love will heal the wings of a butterfly on a wheel)

E agora, como de costume, devia falar eu, Goldmundo; mas, pensando bem, por hoje já tudo ficou dito.