| winter’s melted into spring | 
| brings catepiller creeps in slowly, lowly | 
| you know, he’s inches away through wedded green thing | 
| until it builds a lonely room | 
| he’s gonna sleep like death in a homemade tomb | 
| then once I took a look away that brown cocoon | 
| the silent pleasure to my eyes | 
| beautiful butterfly | 
| oh, won’t you flutter, flutter by my way? | 
| won’t you decorate my day? | 
| and the seasons keep turning around | 
| for the reasons have yet to be found | 
| and the world is turning on | 
| and when something’s gone | 
| you know it’s something’s coming | 
| it’s something’s coming | 
| when something’s gone, something’s coming | 
| when something’s gone, something’s coming | 
| something’s coming | 
| he’s got dirt in his hair and his eyes and his ears | 
| don’t you put him down | 
| frayed teeth frightened my leaves | 
| well, it’s been up to seven years in this town | 
| it’s autumn | 
| he’s must have dust a chance enough a | 
| poor old guffer, nobody loves ya | 
| let him go and didn’t seek | 
| and now he’s only left with tobacco | 
| weaken through his skin | 
| times would have been, guffer gonna die soon | 
| and a newborn baby gonna cry soon, way soon | 
| and the seasons keep turning around | 
| for the reasons have yet to be found | 
| and the world is turning on | 
| and when something’s gone, | 
| you know it’s something’s coming | 
| it’s something’s coming | 
| when something’s gone, something’s coming | 
| when something’s gone, something’s coming | 
| when something’s gone, something’s coming | 
| when something’s gone, something’s coming | 
| when something’s gone, | 
| something’s hanging round the corner | 
| when something’s gone, something’s coming | 
| something’s coming |