Ill be your lingering cigar smoke if youll be my quivering nostalgia,
jumping at any chance to reminisce of the days when our steel frame
would test its infallibilities to the sound of our anguish
of course, were versed in this dance of discourse, this
arrhythmic,
energetic,
emotional banter.
We have performed these parts to a silent audience,
and recieved a deafening ovation.
For we own the stage,
commanding our mimed patrons respect and attention.
We astound them with our vigor and voracity as we
dance our unparalleled folly, tangled in the valleys of our eyes.
The dance will outlast our bodies, for the dance is more than we can ever be.