Red is your lips
The paint,
On your fingertips
The flush,
Of your cheeks
Your heart,
As it falls
Red is your love.

Red is your dress,
As you glide
Across the carpet,
Of fame.
Red is your hair,
Dashing and envied

And Like a rose,
It betrays.

Red is your cheek,
After his hand
Swings across it
Red are his eyes,
As his anger deepens,
And red is your blood,
As it spills from the wounds.

Red are the sirens,
Once it's all over,
And red is your shame,
As red tears stain.

Red is your lips,
Escaped from death,
The blood,
Like paint,
On your fingertips
The pain,
On your cheeks
Your heart,
As it drowns
Red is your love,
Red is your pain.