And my air it holds still,
Sore from that stallion air,
A head full of steamy air,
It lets it out on me.

You could hear him coming,
If the only sound was air,
It's the lungs that collapse,
And snap grasping air,
A magnificent thing,
He lets out on me.

Even tired at the end of the day,
He's bound stretching solid limbs free,
At the sound of ragged breath,
Lighting fires in sore muscles,
A stallions arrogance,
Memory let's go of me,

Stockpiling achey sores,
To exchange for air tomorrow,
Breath is, such a significant thing,
As limbs give out, the sound of air, it lets go of me.
- Joshua Banks JJAJ