Watch me Dance.

You weren’t there when I started dancing.
I waited for you, but my feet were itching,
The music was calling me, I couldn’t wait,
I needed to be on that floor, tapping and swirling,
I needed to be kicking and stretching and leaning,
spinning and twisting and curving.
So I got tired of waiting for you, I strode out
onto the floor, and whoever would, danced with me
I didn’t long dance alone, there were plenty
of chancers and freeloaders and cowboys
and gangsters, you’d warned me about them all,
but they were fun, and danced, and you weren’t there
and the music got louder and better, I couldn’t resist,
I wanted to dance for ever, to the Stones, the Beatles
the Smiths, Bohemian Rhapsody, ‘The Night Chicago Died,’
Abba and Amarillo, Happy when I’m dancing,
where were you? You walked in late, I was
lost in movement by then, hoping you’d watch me
but you turned to the bar and didn’t even look
at my great and brilliant performance.
You should wonder why I ignored even the chancers,
the freeloaders, the cowboys and gangsters,
And went off with the really bad men.


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