Madame Butterfly Video (MV)

Dear Madame Butterfly
The garden's quiet yet still you cry
Little birds are falling down
Just behind your ruby crown

The yellow crocodile
Cleared the labor with a twisted smile
His noble sparrows know
They reap what they didn't sow

So pretty from the gilded stage
Singing from the whitest page
The heads that roll
Are tinted gold

Tiny hands that grip the past
Pushing for the upper class
Who cries for little birds
Thoughts and prayer are only words

So pretty from the gilded stage
Singing from the whitest page
The heads that roll
Are tinted gold

So pretty from the gilded stage
Singing from the whitest page
The heads that roll
Are tinted gold

Dear Madame Butterfly
Your eyes are distant from the fire.
The secrets you must keep
Are bitter cold