We are a story of bad timing We let each other in, arms swing wide Holding the elevator door We were both destined to be going down You never realize the change of elevation until your ears pop Space was tight between us like knots in braids, the air hung hot above us as if we were steaming The confined walls fogging The thing about this amorous vapor is it never last very long The doors eventually open And we can either choose to step off, or suffocate We are a story of bad timing Getting in an elevator Seconds before a fire