Red, red, filled with dread,
thoughts of sanctum clear my head
of doubts of what she seemed to have said.

Haste, perhaps a frantic pace,
to win the race and end the chase,
walk the path you can't replace,
don't look back, go face-to-face.

Blue, the most forgiving hue,
a shade which cannot be untrue,
in the sky and ocean too,
it's got to me,

Has it got to you?