It was a Saturday night;
A cold night in Brooklyn
If I remember right.
When you asked my name
I said I was the Archer, and I drew my bow.
You said it didn’t matter,
You were made of stone.

You walked with me, to keep me warm,
I asked had you seen heaven before
You laughed and said
The heart is a muscle
You’d strengthen–

I said I wanna get better,
But could you love me though I’m not right?
You said not to cut myself in little pieces,
That I was broken, bright, and needed.

We parted ways but not until
We exchanged pieces of ourselves, and still
Your memory still brings me warmth
On cold Saturday nights,
For evermore.