I Don’t Dance

I don’t dance particularly well.

A dance you might say, is my vision of hell.

I don’t dance on feet as light as air.

I dance like a beast, heavy from his lair.

When I have you my Beauty, held in my arms.

I feel like I’d dance like the prince with the charms.

When I have you my Beauty, between my sheets.

I’ll dance like the wind that’ll sweep you off your feet.

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