The World's Gone Beautiful

"The world's gone beautiful,"
    A butterfly lands beside his head on a flower,
"Yes, it has."
    His lover lays next to him, fingers intertwining with his,
"Is it not strange, how lovely it feels right before death?"
    The colorful eyed man stares at the sky,
"It's quite the oddity."

"Say, let's play a song, perhaps?"
    The man with the butterflies suggests,
"I do not want to sing."
    Silence flows on like a never ending river.

"The world is beautiful, yet I do not feel the same."
    Alto admits,
"What do you mean?"
    Benjamin queries,
"Why do I deserve to die in beauty, when all I have done is bring upon pain?"
    Alto and Benjamin lay there, the sun beating down on them,
"Because your soul is beautiful."
    Benjamin says,
"How would you know?"
    Alto asks,
"Because I'm the one who loves it."

The world's gone beautiful,
    And two men lay in fields of blooming flowers,
Wondering why should they ever receive happiness.

"I would say the same to you, Kon."
    Alto replies,
"My soul is ugly, it's covered in patches, sewn and stitched."
    Benjamin disagrees,
"I think it's beautiful, and that's all that matters."

The world's gone beautiful,
    And two men sit and ponder their fates,
In the arms of one another,
    Because neither pain nor death,
Shall ever separate their souls,
    Like they were one.

"Let's play a song,"
    Alto says, picking up his ukulele,
"Yes, let us."
    Benjamin agrees.

The world's gone beautiful,
    And two men sing their favorite songs,
Little worry left inside them,
    For their souls are beautiful to one another,
And neither pain nor death,
    Shall destroy that.