You’re still a dancer on the pier, 
With music that doesn’t play,
Solemn in your silence,
Movement without delay.

Euphoria grips the mind,
Hollowing yet loud.
Something about the quiet,
Kept from moving out.
And circles swim before your eyes,
On waves of purple rain,
Tripping on eyelashes formed in black,
Said to swallow fame.

Now don’t ask silly questions, 
And I’ll answer without lies,
Black sheep still in the cockpit,
Awaiting time for flight.

You’re still a dancer on the pier, 
With music that doesn’t play,
Solemn in your silence, 
Movements like slow decay.

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