Butterflies are white and blue
In this world we wander through
Suffer me to take your hand
Death comes in a day or two
All the things we ever knew
Will be ashes in that hour
Mark the transient butterfly,
How he hangs apon the flower
Suffer me to take your hand
Suffer me to cherish you
Till the dawn is in the sky,
whether I be false or true,
Death comes in a day or two.
Composed under the guidance of Dr. John Beall at West Virginia University.
