"Butterfly" as written by and Tori Ellen Amos....
Stinky soul get a little lost in my own
Hey General, need a little love in that hole of yours
One ways, now, and Saturdays and our kittens all wrapped in cement
From cradle to gundrops
Got me running girl fast as I can
And is it right Butterfly they like you better framed and dried

Daddy dear if I can kill one man why not two
Well, nurses smile when you got iron veins
You can't stain their pretty shoes and pom poms and cherry blondes
And their kittens still wrapped in cement
From God's saviors to gundrops
Got me running girl as fast as I can
And is it right Butterfly they like you better framed and dried

Got a pretty pretty garden pretty garden yes
Got me a pretty pretty garden a pretty garden yes
Got me a pretty pretty garden a pretty garden


Lyrics submitted by merchantpierce

"Butterfly" as written by Tori Ellen Amos

Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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Butterfly song meanings
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  • +1
    General CommentI always thought there was a strong connection to Sylvia Plath in thiis song with so many alussions to her.
    "Daddy dear if I can kill one man why not two," alludes to Plaths poem "Daddy"

    "If I've killed one man, I've killed two--
    The vampire who said he was you
    And drank my blood for a year,
    Seven years, if you want to know.
    Daddy, you can lie back now."

    I also heard that "kittens all wrapped in cement" could be tied with Plaths poem "Lesbo"

    "Little unstrung puppet, kicking to disappear
    Why she is schizophrenic,
    Her face is red and white, a panic,
    You have stuck her kittens outside your window
    In a sort of cement well
    Where they crap and puke and cry and she can’t hear.
    You say you can’t stand her,
    The bastard’s a girl."

    "nurses smile when you've got iron veins" Also could be a loose connection to Sylvia Plaths novel "The Bell Jar" and even "And is it right, butterfly, they like you better framed and dried?" Can allude to Plath, I remember reading some where that there is a poem where Plath speaks of dried, framed butterflys.
    ironyonmytongueon August 09, 2007   Link

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