Piqué, piqué, piqué, pirouette.

Arabesque. I stand there and you spin me around en pointe.
You complete me. We dance and the music is like the background
To our focal point.
We are the centre stage.

Echappé, échappé, relevé.
Pas de chat ensemble.
Repeat à l’autre côté.

You take your hands from my waist now.
We need to complete the choreography.
And I feel lonely without you,
Although you are just on the other side of the room,
By the stereo.
I miss you.

Dancers fall for their partners all the time,
So I will never tell you how I feel
Because love will be the thing to tear us apart.