It could be just me
But I think I need to stop dancing
It gets me into trouble
It’s difficult to stop because
of the feeling
it feeds me
It excites me
Yet it calms me
There’s a releasing
produced when
melodies, lyrics & beats
are injected into my
super-bass laced eardrums
and circulated through my body
starting and stopping
at my feet
It’s kind of a tick that goes off
anytime something rhythmic comes on
Don’t test me and let the DJ throw on a hot song
Because I won’t be able to tell you
Exactly what could happen next
I could be in somebody’s face
Like a 3D movie
Making him or her
yet another
dance battle casualty
or just in the corner
keeping my own company
letting my limbs
run free musically
Picture me
and a handful
of my best buds
in a human made circle
cutting a rug
and you’ll see a moment
I love
Believe me when I say
We go to town
Each one of us could be a Jackson or Brown
I can tell ya now
Who’s Michael
Who’s Bobby
And Who’s Tito
I’m good as long as I can be Chris though
We put on a show….. Unintentionally
Ironically enough
some of the attention
brought by
dancing isn’t
too cool
You’d be surprised
how many hearts
are broken by
a free spirit
on a dance floor
acting a fool
You’d be shocked
how many egos,
fueled by jealousy
of moves unattainable,
are humbled after
stepping in front of
a dancing assassin
thinking “get some rhythm you tool”
It’s partly my fault
I’m tired of dancing myself into
dramatic situations,
which is why I think
I need to sit down
for a while
Well at least publicly
Because honestly,
whether I’m Jerking
Party rocking or Pop-Locking
Krumping, Tutting, or Shuffling
Wu-tanging or “Running Man-ing”
Doing the Cabbage Patch
or the Dougie
(mind you sometimes I do multiple
of these simultaneously),
It’s obvious I cant resist
what a good song
does to me
Maybe that’s why
she called me
A Dance Machine
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