A triolet
     's a pirouette
In a ballet
A triolet
(Or should I say
     A triolette?)
A triolet
     's a pirouette.

i stole the man in the moon
and now i keep him in my room

i hop into my portable radio at night
and i switch the channels
when I get a fright

outside the schools of silver coin fish,
outside, the turtle, who
for a shell, stole a gold dish

yes, you may touch me
but that doesn't make me real

this wavering water glass
is between us
in panes i cannot feel

a glint of gold smoke,
flash of a crystal cigarette

shimmered right out of the spot she stood in,
with one sparkling pirouette

Take me in your arms
and we'll dance the night away
Your promise that you mean no harm
Left and right, we sway

Your hands on my waist
Mine on your shoulders
You dressed in your very best
and me dressed in furs

My heart lifts rhythmically
as we grand jeté across the room
My head whips in circles
as we pirouette around the room

But when you lift me up in the air
and pins drop from my hair
The fiery look in your eyes
combined with all your lies

Sends curls of flames rushing through my stomach
burning all the self-restraint I had
As I begged with my movements
for you to *dance me to hell