The Dagger Draws Me

[Intro] Cold hall. Low flame. Something in the air keeps saying my name. [Verse 1] I told my hands to stay folded, told my feet to know the floor. But the house kept breathing through the boards, and the dark kept opening doors. There it was where nothing was, a little shine with no source. Not in my palm. Not on the table. Still it pulled me off course. The candle bent like it heard instructions. The wall leaned close to see. Every shadow wore a handle. Every silence pointed at me. I said, “No.” Then my pulse said, “Almost.” I said, “Wait.” Then the night said, “Now.” There are thoughts you do not enter. They enter you somehow. [Chorus] The dagger draws me. I don’t draw it. Cold little light with a mouth in it. I can still turn back. I can still not go. The dagger draws me, and I follow. [Verse 2] I was not born with this hunger. I was taught by a room full of crowns. Watched men kiss the hand that cut them, watched the quiet kneel down. Power stood at the end of the hallway, wearing someone else’s breath. I could hear my name getting taller on the other side of death. No scream yet. No stain yet. Just the floorboards counting slow. Just a thought with polished edges making permission glow. I wanted fate to take the blame. I wanted ghosts to sign the deed. But every step I called a summons came from somewhere under me. [Chorus] The dagger draws me. I don’t draw it. Cold little light with a mouth in it. I can still turn back. I can still not go. The dagger draws me, and I follow. [Bridge] If I see it, am I chosen? If I reach, am I free? If the dark lays out a path, is it fate or just me? Don’t bless the blade. Don’t blame the air. Don’t call the hunger something rare. The door is closed. My hand is near. The thing I fear is volunteering here. [Final Chorus] The dagger draws me. I don’t draw it. Cold little light with a mouth in it. I could still turn back. I could still not go. The dagger draws me— no. The dagger draws me. I don’t draw it. But my hand knows where the dark has put it. One more step. One less soul. The dagger draws me, and I follow. [Outro] Cold hall. Low flame. Nothing in my hand. Everything changed. [End]