Sweet little girls, frowning around the world.
Their life isn't perfect, but they don't even try to smile.
They say they see flowers roaming in the air when they close their eyes.
They dream about meadows and bright blue rivers, made out of unicorn tears.
If they look into the water, they'll see the stars, blinking their eyes at the world before them.
But when the girls open their eyes, all they see is a dark sky.
Lights on the streets, on the moon, and in their eyes.
They are just day-dreams of grey clouds, hung in the sky like butterflies' wings.
They can't fly away, they can't spread their wings.
They are wind-up snow globes, they are ballerina's twirling and twirling and never stopping.
Grab onto their hands, and don't let them fall,
because these birds can't fly,
they can't spread their wings.