She's so tired, tied up in all directions all of her imperfections thrown in her face. There's a home base in ball games but it seems absent in recent times.
Mundane melodies, impractical feelings all these peices that seem not to fit the scheme of life or atleast what she had planned.
That's the magic, life never goes as we would like it too but we always have a way of ending up exactly where we're supposed to be, a moment in time and father clock has your watch.
When your time is spent where are you sent? You will eventually miss the melodies eventually replaced with loud chatter of the many voices only you can hear.
Look in the mirror, my dear you are done for.