Curator Of Butterflies

Текст песни Big Big Train - Curator Of Butterflies

She likes to walk
Down the lanes to the fields
In the woods, she finds a stream
The water feels cold
In the cup of her hands

Down among the trees
She spies butterflies
Against the leaves
With one brush of her hand
They are captured and taken

From the top of the hill
Looking over the edge
So far out of reach
Further and further away

She likes to see
All the colours of the wings
Beneath the glass
Then she turns down the light
To keep them from fading away

She likes to walk
By the stream down to the shore
From the source
To the sea
Looking over the edge
Where the sky meets the waves
So far out of reach;
With just one step
She’d be free
With one bound
With one leap
A part we all play
The end is the start
Is the place
Where we came from

Looking over the edge
Counting the waves
Follow the faultlines
Up the side of the hill
The marks of an ancient sea
You can see the traces

At the end of the hedgerow
Out of the field
Looking over the edge
As far as you can see
Under the ordinary light

She loved the colours
Of the wings
Against the green
The first thing she saw
The last she hopes
To see the parts we play
The start the end
And everything
Everything in-between
She likes to walk
By the stream down to the shore
From the source
To the sea

Looking over the edge
Where the sky meets the waves
So far out of reach;
With just one step
She’d be free