I used to think
It was she who was wrong
Trounce her I would yell,
And trounce her, I did

I used to think
It was my country that was wrong
Ditch the country I would yell,
And ditch my country, I did

I used to think
It was my soul that was wrong
Forsake the soul I would yell
And forsake the soul, I did

Now I feel
It is all -- that is wrong
A fragile butterfly overhead
Casts me a brooding smirk

Its ravenous tiger-faced pattern so vivid
It wants to chow down my ravaged face.
Well, whatever, sweetheart
Be that as it may.