Like innocent little children,We often dream of tommorow,
Not knowing what may come,
Living in our own world,
Many faces, many touches,
Many shadows, many lies,
Fragments of hope and love,
They all walk in and out us,
Well, when you go,
Don't ever think I'll make you try to stay,
And maybe when you get back,
I'll be off to find another way,
I'm like a larva caterpillar,
Waiting for my metharmorphosis,
Someday I will lift up my wings,
Be butterflies among the pupals.
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