A butterfly, pinioned to a wheel,

Helplessly hankers for the sky up above.

We, too, are governed by the pain we feel,

When banished from the world of love.

Unhappy bodies don’t heal.

 

Dark minds conceive of plots all around,

Conspiracies lie thick on the ground,

We’re tormented by all the secrets concealed.

Ulcers fester when blood won’t congeal.

Unhappy bodies don’t heal.

 

The unhappiness quotient is rising,

The barometer is about to blow!

Take your tablets with obsessive zeal,

But dial some love up before you go!

 

Seek out your spiritual healer,

One to surround you, below and above,

Connecting you to deep energy,

Supplying you with natural love,

Find love! Find love!

Beg, borrow, or steal!

Unhappy bodies don’t heal!