Before Our Lungs Give Up

You're looming like a bolt of lightning
on calloused lungs.
A pre-madonna champion who can't be moved.

Oh, Laura, I memorized the ways you move
(but the traitor sips our thoughts and pays no attention to cost.)
Oh, Laura, I memorized the ways you move
(but the traitor sips our thoughts and pays no attention to cost.)

But as you break another taste
over the top of your tongue, Laura.
Can you wrap your arms around the setting sun, Laura?

If logic would undulge you on your plate,
could you fake the run-through anyway?

But as you break another taste
over the top of your tongue, Laura.
Can you wrap your arms around the setting sun, Laura?