rhythm world pulsing 2 my underground beat. staccato calypso hips shimmey, shakin',
and swayin', playin' havoc with this have not. leaning on my own understanding of
nothing in particular. picking myself apart like guitar strings singing the blues out of
tune with the room. but it's magic.
but it's madness to mourn the moon. mirror of the sun showing the holes in it's face.
free of faceless anonymity. look at me! it's magic
master of the compressed thought. rhythm world pulsing 2 my underground beat.
we hear their feet tapping has we sneak. next door. next world. next boy. next girl.
careening on our carousel. it's magic