Archer - Arcturus

Last transmission from a dying bloated fallen star

Time is ripe for me to leave this station

A carrier of doorways at the gates of no return

Poetic justice burn

Never mind true north at the heart

This beat up lonely vessel falls apart

Departure for a flying start

I circle in the center like an archer

Marksmen of a certain kind already know the answer

Readjusting the course

No remorse

Ride the Arcturian horse

Coma rider flown

Into the vast unknown