Calling out for wondersnEverywhere to pour yourselvesnInto the flask we hold up high within our handsnnPlease, go on, continuenTo amaze, distilling as we marvelnHow its pretty colors now expandnnThey reach for some pinnaclenFar beyond cynicalnExploding in soundnBut if you feel otherwisenRed headed butterflies won't lift off the groundnnCalling out to saviorsnEverywhere, to launch yourselvesnInto the skies far up above our boring homesnnPlease, go on, continuenTo display a new belief sonOur lonely inner drones fall to sleepnnThey reach for some pinnaclenFar beyond cynicalnExploding in soundnBut if you feel otherwisenRed headed butterflies won't lift off the groundnnCalling out for martyrsnEverywhere, perhaps in all of usnThere's dreams which I am convinced are of dyingnnThey reach for some pinnaclenFar beyond cynicalnExploding in soundnBut if you feel otherwisenRed headed butterflies won't touch your groundnnAnd reach for some miraclenNo matter how hystericalnIt maybe soundsnBut if you feel otherwisenRed headed butterflies won't touch the groundnnI foresee a day when all those we've southerned will fix everythingnAnd oh what a great array of reliefnAll this will bringnAll this will bring