You wear your anger well and stand
 For all the world to see
 A heavy cloak and one gloved hand
 And no humility
 
 You stand inside the garden
 And feast on black cherries
 And swallow the manna from heaven
 And spit out the seeds
 
 You spread your anger on sharp-edged knives
 Cut my skin and make it bleed
 Like Pilate in his self-righteousness
 You're a traitor and a thief
 
 Choking on your unplanned words
 Coughing up your lies
 Tumbling from your mouth a flurry
 Of broken butterflies
 
 Broken butterflies 
 They rest their wings snapped in two 
 On their way to certain death 
 Their colors gold an' blue
 
 But the blood that flows I cannot hide
 That blood that covers me
 Nourishes the butterflies
 And they are healed and are set free
 
 I wish you had what Ruth possessed
 But then I don't expect that of you
 Grace and honor and faithfulness
 And the love that you refuse
 
 Will you ever learn to just forgive
 Will you open your beautiful eyes
 And bleed the way Christ did
 And fix the broken butterflies