We're the crazy ones. Dancing on the puffiest clouds and brightest
stars.Marking little moments of our lonely lifes. Colliding our lost
souls into something more powerfull. They say we are mad for happiness.
But how are they supposed to know how it feels to be alive.They will
never be as alive as we are. We were born as summer butterflies, leading
recless life. And even if they think we are possesed by devil, there on
the dancefloor we become white and pure. Just like newborns. Music
blossom our love from little bud to beautiful flower. Our lips whisper
words and our bodies express our passion. When we expect the least our
hearts give out our deepest secrets. Deepest hopes till every beat makes
us younger and younger. If they try to kill us because of our desires, we say come on us. We rather die as these colorfull butterflies,
remembered as summer messengers, not as a blow of a wind, forgotten and
never remembered. We are dancers, we manage to keep pure life and
freedom under our flesh.
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