Fireflies

Fireflies, they dream about you.
They’re heading back home, to where you sleep.
And are you 'wake or not?
They spy on you while Zephyrus is gone.
You dream of them as ghosts,
but you’re not frightened as you watch them go away.
The day is done, gone the sun.
Luminiscent trees they’ll make you sleep.
And are you’wake or not?
Cause I’ve been watching you since i was born.
My wings are torn;
this must be the last time I fly home… to you.