This morning was something so groggy,
As I rose from my comfort to find that:
Michael Angelo was apparently having a bad day,
Cuz it was fuckin foggy.
I pressed my body up against the freezing cold window
And died a little bit inside as I did so
God of weather, why are you so upset?
So I dug for the answer deep inside,
And something told me not to fret,
Please not just yet.

So I stayed for a little bit
And told myself not to quit,
This weather kinda fits.
Right now it suits the world:
This crazy swirl of people who whirl around pretending to dance a ballroom pataburret
When we need to accept:
It’s just a plain shitty bad day
Let’s shut the fuck up and not say
Don’t look at me and say “you’re so gay”
Cuz if you wanna go there, it’s a whole different topic
So lets just drop this
Mop this up

This whole mess could be spick and span
But remember your “please and thank you ma’am”
Let’s use a little bleach to teach these people:

Ballroom dancing is an illusion
So let me take you to the club of no conclusions
Where I sway just to express and say
Look at my mean hips…
Wanna take a trip?
To where the sweat leaks down to my finger tips
so hot I may just have to strip,
Not my clothes but this cover
This rubber
This protection that hides the fact that I am a lover

From streets to steps to beats to breaths
From streets to steps to beats to breaths
From streets to steps to beats to breaths to…
Hips
Just kiss my lips
And
Take a grip,
Dance with me
Not the shasays, pataburrets or pleays
The dance that’ll make the rain go away
The one that we’ll do
Everyday.