Her perfection isn't fake
A way to cover up our mistakes
She keeps it high
She bears in grace
Runs into a field
To find a hiding place
And she stops at a small old church
Stormy wind seems to search
For her and her glory
She willesly gets drown inside
Looks around and catches sight
Of a lonely child
You carry a pretty light
I wanna be
Like you
You're my utopia
Now I am saved I am born again
Won't forget my transformation
As long as you are with me
And very slowly I feel the blame
As the recurrent thing
Recurrent thing