These words don't really count since I wrote them awhile back, upon visiting the Butterfly Pavilion and Insect Center in Denver:
Butterflies live for only a week in the wild, but in that week, they've got a lot to do. As they get older, their wings just sort of fall apart. We saw them just sitting on top of these big slices of banana. Imagine sticking your nose, your most sensitive organ, in a flower and letting it, and yourself, stay there for hours. Is it like those people who swim in big vats of jello? Or freezer pops. Geez, I hope flowers don't taste like freezer pops.
Sweet freedom, whispered in my ear
Um, here's what's written on my copy of the album on which you'll find this next song: "To Suzy/All our love/The Cowsills/you've got a great/dad."
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