Turn around, dance around from dancer to dancer,
One person after another,
My dress twirling around my legs as I am passed to yet another.
The room spiraling and spinning before my eyes,
Losing all sense of the grip of reality.
The music mixes and blends into an incomprehensible rhythm in my ears,
It's all automatic now, as if I am no longer myself,
As though someone else controls me like a puppet.
Swirling psychedelic rainbow colors of the dancers,
Everyone dances here with me,
But no one sees the things I do, no one hears the things I do,
To them I am just another dancer like all the rest,
Another lady to twirl with before moving on to the next.
My life, my heart, my soul means nothing to them as we talk out of
courtesy,
The weather, politics, family, friends,
It's all the same to them.
All wearing masks to keep me from seeing who they really are,
So afraid of exposure.
I am the cat among the pigeons,
The rose in a garden of weeds,
Different from the ones molded by their conformity,
The one not afraid to be who I really am.
Again I am passed to another,
Again I dance with another,
Again the music passes by my ears,
Again the colors swirl,
Again I feel like shedding tears.
Tears for the lost souls,
Tears for those who blind themselves to who they are inside,
Tears for those doomed to dance forever,
Here in the ballroom of life.