| A moth is not a butterfly
|
| And I know why, I know why
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| It kind of makes you want to cry
|
| That a moth is not a butterfly
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| But some are happy in the bluest sky
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| And others search in the dark of night
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| And sadness is a silent right
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| A moth is not a butterfly
|
| A stone is not a grain of sand
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| It’s hard, I guess, to understand
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| Both broken parts scatter the land
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| A stone is not a grain of sand
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| And one has lived for longer still
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| The other longs to break until
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| The wind can lift it in its hand
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| A stone is not a grain of sand
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| A desert’s not a mountainside
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| And I know why, I know why
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| 'cause one is vast and one divides
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| A desert’s not a mountainside
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| 'cause one has need for open space
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| The other simply in its place
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| It must be known far and wide
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| That a desert’s not a mountainside
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| A moth is not a butterfly
|
| And I know why, I know why
|
| It kind of makes you want to cry
|
| That a moth is not a butterfly |