Papillon - My Tin Apple

red or blue,

with beads or gold

like the color of your eyes

a papillon to enhance

what ‘d never be beautiful

sewn drops, butterflies

she did it all by herself

for those who called her unlovely witch

she wove the thread with hatred

pleased with a good result

she smiled and they fell breathless drop-dead beautiful

hai hai hai papillon

hai hai hai papillon

she cried out loud

scratching her hands

picking up her papillons

so nice, big and colorful

it seems they were made by a beautiful woman

growing up, dreaming

she couldn’t find true love

crying and fighting

she gave death with her papillons

she wove the thread with hatred

pleased with a good result

she smiled and they fell breathless drop-dead beautiful

hai hai hai papillon

hai hai hai papillon

hai hai hai papillon