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