Song: Bolero - Steve Sharples

black leather dragging behind
and she's leaving lines
as she saunters across the floor

piano man in the shadow
diddles out his soul
haunched over 88 strings

a room full of artists
trying to paint grey over with color
revelling in words of Decadence
among fairies, smiling skirts
and those enslaved

a set of arms starts the game
calling eachother within a circle
and both refuse to yield

eyes set on their dialogue
twists and turns and stomps
accompanying the wordless song

tension fills space
the floor starts burning hot
as the trio turns to an orchestra

partners change arms
to the next glistening with sweat
building up to the crescendo

heartbeats starts singing
flashes before an explosion
followed by staccato images

piano hands stills,
man has played himself empty
but she fills him up
with her gratefulness
-while others return to their default