I don't dance
Not to this tune.
I won't prance.
Not with this gloom
Two left feet drag like cement bags
Across the room
Old bags with scabs.
Scoweling laughter , certain of my doom
Broken knees like jack knifed trees
I'm threw
So I will pick up my bags.
Lace my cement shoes
And tell the old hags with their scowls
And their gloom
That still I dance.
Across the room
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
I don't dance
Not to this tune.
I won't prance.
Not with this gloom
Two left feet drag like cement bags
Across the room
Old bags with scabs.
Scoweling laughter , certain of my doom
Broken knees like jack knifed trees
I'm threw
So I will pick up my bags.
Lace my cement shoes
And tell the old hags with their scowls
And their gloom
That still I dance.
Across the room
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