dancing out, dancing out
my reverence to our high sense of counter-clocking common sense
by stepping in through the exit,
by coming in through the only window that is closed
it's an art, it's an art of dancing this way
and mixtapes me sing our song
mistakes we sing our song
dropping pride expected to feel so light
feeling so light, soon that train to the past
arriving at something 37 + the strikes
and I'll stop by a café, order s.odd thing
for the d/d/ poupées.
a smile for that red dash