rotting carcass of an eighties band

If you dance like i dance you dance rarely and when you dance you dance the paint off the walls. Most other times you refuse to dance, not that you’re shy or embarrassed or no fun, no, but everyone at the goddam wedding will dance to a conclusion, while you sip your bloody mary and gnaw on a celery stalk. They will bloody feel bad for you, you dance rarely and they won’t understand, and better to be misunderstood than to let them force you up on the B-52’s or some other rotting carcass of an eighties band, my god.  The only way you might get me up there anymore is if I were in love and I’m not.


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