Вершы: Lucinda Williams. Broken Butterflies.

Wear your anger well inside
For all the world to see
A heavy cloak a one glove tan
And no humility

You stand inside the garden
And feast on black cherries
And swallow the mana from heaven
And spit out the seeds

You spread your anger and sharp edge knife
Cut my skin and make it bleed
Black pollen in its self-righteousness
You are a traitor and a thief

Choking on your unplanned words
Coughing up your lies
Tumbling from your mouth
A flurry of broken butterflies
Broken butterflies

They rest their wings snapped in two
On their way to certain death
Their colors gold and blue
With the blood that flows I can not hide
The blood covers me

Nourishes the butterflies and they are healed and are set free
I wish you had what Ruth possessed
Then I don't expect that of you
Grace and honor and faithfulness
And a love that you refused

Will you ever learn to just forgive
Will you open your beautiful eyes
And bleed the way Christ did
And fix the broken butterflies