Words and Music: Bill Roper
Headed east from San Francisco,
Lookin’ for a place I should go.
Needed just some time to clear my mind.
In the mountains, in a meadow,
Far away from all that I know,
Found a little place I could unwind.
In a butterfly wind, it’s magic,
And I’m looking for a way to begin.
In a butterfly wind, it’s tragic
If you never find your way there again.
And the butterfly wind blows sweetly
And it’s gentle like the touch of your hand
As the butterfly wind caresses the land.
Lay there with the grass below me
In a world that didn’t know me.
Saw him gently flutter cross the sky.
Drifting softly on the breezes.
Taking comfort where he pleases.
God, I wish I knew the way to fly.
Sat there for a moment resting,
Orange and black wings attesting
That he was the king of all his race.
Then he flew and I flew with him
To the home where I’d been livin’
And brushed my fingertips across your face.
And I’m holding your hand
In a butterfly wind.