"This vacant emptiness
This hollow is eating
Stabs through my side like thorns, so defeating
The glint of gold, sparks of silver, shining
The slightest breath of why we're pining
We take the crumbs like our hearts are at peace
We are far too easily pleased

Quicksilver, quicksilver
Shadows dodge and fade
Something less than why we're made

I need this burning inside me
This brilliant aura, this electricity
I'm being haunted by spectres of what might be
Of imperfections, of nearness to beauty
As life butchers, so sweet yet so sickening
We have betrayed, for each tiny flickering"

-Roper, "Quicksilver"