Less talk, more dancing

If we could push off the sick conversation one more night

I surely would

My shoes have gathered the dust of the vineyard

Have I soiled your gown?

There's soil on your gown, like sangria

Cleanses the heart

Our clogged hearts are choking on the grime

As the big band waltzes on

Your stranded eyes whisper...



"The dirt is out.

I can smell her on your velvet hands."

The dirt is out --

are we stuck in the motions again?



Oh, but was it sweet

In the vineyard

Sangria, won't you bless

The starving lips

Such virgin lips

Would choke on all this grime

I've found some dirt under my nails

I'll scratch and bite until...



The dirt is out

but sangria burns under my skin

The dirt is out --

I thought I'd never wash these hands again



Under my skin....