Those are words that dance, are words that fly. They come and go as they please, they run and they hide. I’m looking all over for them; I’m looking all over for you, and I hunt with my thoughts and my hands the trace of the dance. I walk, I talk, I sleep with the sound, and I read in my mind, I read out loud. As I ask, wait, analyze, I guess what’s found it’s that you don’t dance. But words return as expectations run out, dissolving conclusions imposing the doubt.
So you can ask and I’ll explain; with you I’m dreaming awake.