She is my gaping wound
And my tourniquet
An ancient god
When I need modern medicine
She is a thing I happened upon
Who stole the water from the vein
But she isn't the drought
For she is the rain
It took a death
To know of life
Set my love free
Then paid the price

I happened upon a needle
The surrounding hay praised its name
But their god pricked my finger
Now I don't bleed the same
As I once did
Some of the pieces spilled out
And there are not enough jars
In a world filled with lids

She is a song on a deaf ear
A fallen autumn leaf
She is the forest torn to shreds
To make a Christmas wreath
She is my lover and she is my killer
For I was the field and she was the tiller

Behold all that we should happen upon
For that which kills us
May also bring
All we shall know of joy.