歌詞

The wheel drops into a rut

I brace; the red seat takes it

He turns in from the window

I sit straighter than I need to

I tell him I can use a bow

Then make it sound like less

He doesn't fill the pause

He doesn't look away

I finish what I meant to say

That's new enough

Keep my hands steady

Give me one clear thing:

A road to read, a mark to watch

A useful kind of distance

He asks me what I'm good at

And waits until I'm done

White and gold leave a black sleeve

Too long to have been hidden

His hand goes back for more

No—this one. More than enough

I take the center grip

It rises farther than I meant

It's lighter than it looks

Keep my hands steady

Give me one clear thing:

A road to read, a mark to watch

A useful kind of distance

Blue mushrooms mark the passage

A map. A hand. A line of riders

Salt comes through the dark

By the time the bell begins

Both hands are on the bow

The first blow bends the timber

The second never falls

One raised hand stops every shield

Someone stands above the wall

I reach back for an arrow

His palm moves through my line

I stop because he stops me

The farther back we go

The worse it gets beyond the gate

I know the range

I know the wind

I know where every finger goes

But what is a clean shot

When someone else

Has been made the mark?

Keep my hands steady

There is no clear distance now

The grip is light against my palm;

I still can't make the choice

Wait beside him. Still

He asked what I could do

I don't know what helps

No arrow leaves

The gate stays shut