Verse 1

She ties two braids before the kettle sings

Paints a crooked sun on yesterday’s things

One red boot, one blue, she calls it a pair

Laughs at the mirror like it owes her a dare

Pre-Chorus

She clicks her heels on the kitchen tile

Turns every warning into a smile

If the room says no, she kicks the door

And invents a little more

Chorus

She is a firework wearing mismatched shoes

A spinning compass with nothing to lose

When her wild heart runs, the whole world moves

Come on, come on, there’s room for you

She is our beautiful trouble, bright and bizarre

A pocket-sized storm with a queen-sized heart

If the night falls hard, she’ll tear it apart