Take it on, take it off, take it back to the one who sold you
dancing shoes to play worker bee. Take it on, take it off, and wander
the bigness of this thimbleverse in your ill apparel
and then hook and lateral it all into something
no one thought was possible, but remember
I was rooting for you to make the upset,
the long bet sure thing, if they only knew
what you were capable of pretending to be.
They've already seen me do my thing
and get swerve crazy in venues
where the only respect due
was the respect commanded of
clothing expected in the lots and bars
of the salvation army, but us carnies can do
other things besides the explicitly advertised and
truer to form than them other humans born into
establishment - oh establishment - the brute
in the beauty of form following
high function, you dance like
a song ripped lo fi and eight balled, late midnight, higher
than the dumbest most dubbest stepped dub,
but the track playing in your mind
has taken off and taken on the challenge of
the preponderance of long heeled country
with the grace of - jesus christ you can't do that here
in front of cameras designed to catch
the cut and scratch of the real and the greasing
of corporate self preserving twheels
so feel a little bad and be glad
there is someone to reel you back
when the urge to cut moves attacks and attracts
the kind of attention that can get a boy fired
if he were to say two words
about the way you've moved
the definition of stupid, balls out,
wear it on the wrist to the hilt, idle minded, sexy.
Is my tie still on straight?
