dancing isn't so fancy
by your lonesome
but it was pretty hip
although i miss your hips
bumping into mine
like a rythmic rhyme
of a jrarrmy jig
with a blessed gal
only dressed for now
until a cave of snow
and ice
and all that is worn
will be on our hands
and maybe even then
we'll say we can't stand
and it's down to nothing
you and i and huffing
chafing
raving about ravaging
saving all but savaging
wouldn't want to go home
with chunks missing
wouldn't want to go home
at all