They say she's got wind in her blood.
As if there's such a thing.
Yes.
Wind.
As if there's such a thing.
It died.
Ages and ages and ages and ages ago,
It died.
Leaving land grey,
Flowers abandoned,
Bushes solitary
Trees finding themselves charred and colorless and bleak against a sun with no air left to pierce through.
And so, leaving the sun red,
Burning through sobbing atmosphere.
Leaving the clouds a thousand torn hearts,
Stained brick,
Stained like dust.
Leaving the rain a mere pattering of blood.
Leaving blood without wind,
As if there were no such thing.
Earth.
So lonely without the sweeping hand of wind.
She swears it lives,
But it died.
Ages and ages and ages ago,
It died.
