The headdress alone towers and glitters.
Feet adorned in boots.
Scandal and flamboyance,
Yet quiet, and still.
See the colours,
See the dance.
Watch the curves I show you.
Look at the feathers on my arms.
I am in the crowd.
We all sashay.
Deep bass washes over us.
Bada dada, papada, da.
.. / .- -- / .. -. / - .... . / -.-. .-. --- .-- -..
.. / .- -- / .. -. / - .... . / -.-. .-. --- .-- -..
.. / .- -- / .. -. / - .... . / -.-. .-. --- .-- -..
.. / .- -- / .. -. / - .... . / -.-. .-. --- .-- -..
Masquerades get tiresome after a while. Don’t you think? And making a good mask, that says a lot about a person but when they take it off...
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