As the night sweeps it's cloak on this city,
children are tucked in bed before the ungodly hour,
lust fills the air in drunken lover's lungs as they inhale each others scent.
But not you,
you stand there unchanged by the luster of the moon.
You sway accustomed to the wind.
The sycamore sways along with you.
The chime of fresh-shed cicadas cheer you on,
and their empty shells rattle the beat  
Honey,
tonight I came here unsure.
Honey,
now I know one thing for sure.
Honey,
we swing to the beat beautifully for sure.
Honey,
You're going to be my dancing partner,
I'm sure.