What happens to those who stagger across broken glass?
I guess they will never know until next day
Only when sober can you count the cost of your intoxication
The wounds that bled last night are next day’s regret
But these wounds are the bend in the arrows bow
How can the arrow strike without this bend?
A true archer knows this old age alchemy
And regrets not the missing of a strike
What you have come to know is rooted in experience
One that is as personal as the secrets in a woman’s heart
Radiating in her eyes like the pearls of the ocean
Daring all explorers to dive deeper!