i want to dance so i don t have to think anymore about the steam cleaned caterpillar in the pinafore i want to dance till the meanings of words are replaced by the snobbish foppish dandies with discriminating taste taking lady s place and bouncing her face up the escalator to inspect the fay new blonde i want to dance to the voice of the phantom oboe performing sprightly melodies of a rococo i want to dance to the rhythm of owls in a plumb who have fashioned tiny instruments plucked with their thumbs no feeling is more safe then when you embrace me dancing we don t need to call any of our friends because i don t even care who else is there if dancing is your legs laughing choking is your throat heckling cement grapes are falling ah but the limp nymphs are calling me to dance i m so sick and tired of always feeling down yeah just sitting around yeah wasting my life i want to dance i want to dance i want to dance