Butterfly of wisdom

All alone without thoughts
At my old blue desk
Alone on easter sunday
My brokeness still a pest
Am I my own man?
Or just a puppet on a string?
Do I turn my own board?
Or wait for fate to bring?
Whatever. Whatever.
Whatever will be
Believe that and you’re a sucker
You may never see the key
Preachers, teachers abusers of religion
Everyone claiming to see the only vision
Prophecies sprouting up like weeds
Don’t believe’em none
The truth grows like a tree
When I ask others,
Where am I headed?
They tell me ask the planets
Ask the stars
But is the fate
Of another sucker mine
Because of the tilt of mars?
Maybe it is. Maybe it ain’t
But what about
The flowers and the color of paint?
Do you become what you think about most?
To be or not to be? … Or to be an almost?
Do the gods help those who help themselves?
Or should I store my juice
Up on a mental shelf?
Am I my own man? … O
R just a puppet on a string?
Do I turn my own board?
Or wait for fate to bring?
Came out of my apartment at the street door
Looked back up to my window on the second floor
Got a planter-box of flowers
Got some purple, got some blue
When into my pretty picture
A white butterfly flew
Bouncing alone she went
It seemed without direction
Bouncing alone she went
She was the vision of perfection
Am I my own man?
Or just a puppet on a string?
Do I turn my own board?
Or wait for fate to bring?
So I followed that little butterfly of wisdom
Down the dusty streets of the city of lisbon
And somewhere down near alcantara-mar
She stopped for a moment on the hood of a car
Then she landed on an average street sign
And for that brief second
That sign was like a shrine
Then the butterfly landed on a small girl
Who was still young enough
To wonder at the world
She landed on a wooden fence
But on the fence, it appeared
She landed only to rest
She landed on the head of a statue
Then flew off into the forest of monsanto
Bouncing alone she went
It seemed without direction
Bouncing alone she went
She was the vision of perfection
Am I my own man?
Or just a puppet on a string?
Do I turn my own board?
Or wait for fate to bring?
Through the pine trees
The way the winds blow
Alonside of a crow
To a quite meadow
Finally she landed on
A lonely yellow flower
Then suddenly took off
With a fresh burst of power
What a long way, I thought
Just to get a little snack
But she hadn’t just been
Searching for a flower she lacked
She’d been blessing the 'hood
With her awkward grace
And then she blessed my nose,
By landing on my face
Giving back to the world,
That gave her sweet life
Even if her sole purpose
Was to be a lovely sight
And off she flew
Above the trees, to the sky
And I could swear
I heard a little voice
Wish me «Goodbye»
I walked all the way back home
Wearing a grin
Finally knowing life
Means nothing and everythin'
Bouncing alone she went
It seemed without direction
Bouncing alone she went
She was the vision of perfection
Am I my own man?
Or just a puppet on a string?
Do I turn my own board?
Or wait for fate to bring?