A week and a half under the thumb.

Now the world is turning on itself.
With a funky flavor and a pinch of salt,
it has gone to the dogs

Little animals living in my hips
are now dancing to the beat
that wakes from this new adventure

Slowly my skin incorporates as well,
every pore rejoices in excitement,
as I embrace that voice

It repeats itself, oh that bloody sound
A voice from the deeps
That makes me pound

Now I have to think of packing
but I don't really want to go
I want to stay and dance

All of my gestures are not enough
to express the joy
of the meaning found in the new sound.