| Excuses |
|---|
| You tried to taste me |
| I taped my tongue to the southern tip of your body |
| Our bones are too heavy to come up |
| Squished into a single cell of wood |
| And I made an excuse |
| And you found another way to tell the truth |
| I put no one else us above us |
| We’ll still be best friends when all turns to dust |
| We are so smooth now |
| Our edges are beaten driftwood whittled down |
| Old bodies slip when they make love |
| We’ll mine our sparks to shoot above us |
