She faced the hardest thing to do,

And many times her eyes fought back the tears,

And when her youthful heart was about to fall,

This time her slender shoulder drew the weight of fear,

And every silent song to hear,

Still reign in midnight silence in her ear.

Let her cry for she is bad,

Let her dream for she’s a child,

Let the rain falls down to hold her,

She’s a sweet gentle flower growing,

In the garden full of grass,

Where butterflies fly around.

Be careful how to touch her for she’ll be awaken,

Cause sleep is the only freedom that she know,

Try to look into her eyes to see,

The way she always paying for the debt she never own,

And the silent wind still blows,

That only she can hear so there she goes.

If  I was given a chance to hold her,

Please let me hold her for a time,

And if allowed to have possession,

I will pick her from the garden to be mine,

For she’s a sweet and gentle flower growing,

In the garden where butterflies fly around.