Die if it makes me feel alive Find the echo of my wounded side Pry my heart and start the bleed In it's cracked, visceral seed Light flickering the darkened past Brush shattered memories made of glass Refracting my empathy Through eyes that can't see The seasons of emotion Have dried up inside The seam that wasn't woven tight Has fossilized The pull of the archer The moon's shimmer ruptures The pull of the archer The root of distraction The pull of the archer Is pulling me under