She fell, breaking her crimson lines
And discovered something radical, change
She was so alone, falling and breaking
She felt an alien, different, not unique, but strange
Until one day, there was nothing left
no pieces to pick up, only broken things
Her heart stopped screaming, gave up
and a sad song was what she sings
But a breeze came in, sweet and clean
fresh, new, different, and she could breathe
scattered the pieces like dust on the wind
and her pain and crimson began to cease
Now she rides the wind, a goddess pure
Different, strange, but exotic and good
She picks up the broken, twisted hearts
Helps those who stand where she stood
