Slowdance yourself at sunset
In the incense smoke
To the sound of the solar inverter
You found your shoe at last
It was in the back of the cupboard
The pumpkin is in your belly
Sweet as apricot with the chicken
Someone else caught
And killed for you
You were never at home in a palace
What did the prince want from you, anyway?
It was your voice
It was the way you danced
Knowing you only had until midnight
When everything would vanish
It was the energy
That last-day-alive intensity
Slowdance yourself
Stratocumulus forms in the north-west
And the storm sweeps away your unrest.
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