The beat hits. People throw your hands in the air (and wave ‘em like you just don’t care, you saw that comin’ right)? Never tentative I hear the bass and without thought to savin’ face I dance.
Am I good? That depends on your definition of the word. Do I care if people see? No. I do what I do. Staring, glaring, stylin’ and profilin’ I get one reaction to another . Life is short. I dance. Through anger, pain, stress, through the sometimes maniacal schedule of my day, I dance.
In my home, at the office, on my lunch break walkin by 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, when the beat hits, I dance.
Crutches flailing, the movements, hat bendin, collar poppin, never stopping, I dance. It’s what I do. Release. And, people take notice
Am I good? That depends on your definition of the word. Do I care if people see? No. I do what I do. Staring, glaring, stylin’ and profilin’ I get one reaction to another . Life is short. I dance. Through anger, pain, stress, through the sometimes maniacal schedule of my day, I dance.
In my home, at the office, on my lunch break walkin by 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, when the beat hits, I dance.
Crutches flailing, the movements, hat bendin, collar poppin, never stopping, I dance. It’s what I do. Release. And, people take notice
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