Her world bounces up and downnLike a girl on a trampolinenHer dark hair shiningnLike a preacher on SundaynHer breathe smells like tangerinesnHer nose is peppered by the sunlightnHer eye's the deep blue seanWhen she drifts the mood is so softnThe warm summers breezennThey caught her cryingnIn the rear view mirrornOn our way to a sandy beachnAs I bounce between then and nownI see it's somewherenWe would never reachnnThey watched her crynIn the rear view mirrornThere's no u-turn on a one way streetnAs I bounce between then and nownI see the lessonnThey were trying to teachnnSays rainy days look bestnThrough a windownShut it tightnLeave the cold outsidenShe's just like the Mona LisanA million eyes could never read her mindnAll she asks is for something beautifulnThe truth is something that she won't believenWhat she's got is something beautifulnHow easily she was deceivednnSo I'd lift her up on butterfly wingsnLet her down like a feather fallsnWe won't listen to your mother say No, nonCome on baby got to break these wallsnnWe'd climb highnPoint to a star in the skynYou always question but you never ask whynYou're heart will never know until she criesnCome on baby got to break these wallsnnSays rainy days look bestnThrough a windownShut it tightnLeave the cold outsidenShe's just like the Mona LisanA million eyes could never read her mindnAll she asks is for something beautifulnThe truth is something that she won't believenWhat we've got is something beautifulnHow easily she was deceivednnSo I'd lift her up on butterfly wingsnLet her down like a mountain fallsnWe won't listen to your mother say No, nonCome on baby got to break these wallsnnWe'd climb highnPoint to a star in the skynYou always question but you never ask whynYou're heart will never know until she criesnCome on baby got to break these wallsnnWhat she needs is what she really, really wantsnWhat that is she really doesn't knownIn the winter she waits for the heatnIn the summer she Prays for the SnownWhat she needs is what she really, really wantsnWhat that is she really doesn't knownAll she holds is all she's ever really lostnI think it's time she lets it gonnLife is just a story made up by our brainsnWhat we leave on pages is all that will remainnLong after we're gone it's read or hung up on a wallnSuddenly your life will be meaningfulnWith a pallet full of colornTo show how she felt insidenShe painted a plain picture of a brown butterfly