In my childhood
I climbed holly trees and magnolia.
Innocence was a summer day
Locked outside with your bicycle;
Locked outside with the water hose;
Locked inside your room.

It's late, and lightning
Is the only thing lighting
Up the room.

In my childhood
I picked flowers and drew them
With the butterflies still feeding
Climbing down from magnolia trees
I descend down to the patch of grass.
It's out here I learn beauty dies
But we still suck out what's left.

I've grown up since
Those branches broke beneath me.
My beauty isn't dead yet.