You don’t dance like we do.

Hopping and bopping on some lonesome hill,

Strobe lights dull the individual’s will

To breakout, let us twist and shout

And join the jewels crafting His crown

We wear, we share, we unconditionally care,

Circles, spirals, seven-dimensional prayers,

Singing with sweat we don’t know whose is whose,

Our hair flowing, a sea of stiffnecked blues,

Clapping to the beat of His name,

These holy hands linking the chain,

Gaze at us, gazelles, streaming down the lonesome hill,

Listening for His knock, awakening our will.

 

No, you don’t dance like we do.