Writing on the bus

Red lips are a weapon

No man can overcome.

They pierce through thick

Skin and bone, striking

Straight into the heart.

Red lips are a weapon.

Kisses rain down weakening

Defenses.  She pulls the

Strings of love, and I cannot

Resist. Futile attempts to

Stay in control fail.  I am

A prisoner of war.

Red lips are a weapon.

Passion blinds, and we are

Lost to time.  We are lost

To time.  She know the inner

Workings of my chamber,

The mechanism that makes

Me tick, and she dances on

Fragile glass, cracking shards

As she moves along.

Red lips are a weapon, and

They do destroy.  Epic devastation

In the wake of their use, total

Annihilation.  She dances on fragile

Glass, laughing in his arms, 

Spinning in his arms, smiling

In his arms... In his arms.

Red lips are a weapon,

But at least she's happy.