She looks pretty in red
So pretty that she makes me scared
Her cold stare leaves me dead
and to my lungs, her soft voice returns breath

I wish she was wicked
I'd have a reason for hatred
And not this longing instead
now I am left with a broken heart and a twisted head

Faith says try again
Ego says, there's no gain
Hope says maybe there's a way
The voices whirl over my head and jam my brain

and like a ship at sea
and like the sheep I see
She's the fodder for me
Green pastures barricaded with the fences of unavailability