In the silence of the night,
Little Feet tapped the aisle,
Of her love, in her world,
Of the castles of the sand.
In the morning with the rise,
With the glow of new red,
Arrives the spring of new tide,
Of the emotions, in a heap of a pile.
Red was her scar or scar was red?
Stain all caste, Strain every self,
Shed her castle, chained her thoughts,
Quest her chaste and Smeared her red.
Red is a colour of dusk and dawn,
Red is for every end and rise,
Let it drift in the saintly seed,
Let her bleed, Let me bleed.