Master of the Dance

 

You are the Master of the dancing;

You are the Master of the Dance:

And how our feet and arms would follow,

We only ask you for the chance.

 

You are the zeitgeist and the trendy.

Oh how we try your every stance,

And curse our feet that keep on tripping.

You are the Master of the Dance.

 

We are so blinded by your strobe lights.

Degeneration seems advance.

We do not see the growing shadows.

You are the Master of the Dance.

 

Yes, it was Bosch who limned your portrait

And we can see it at a glance,

But can we dare confess he nailed it?

You are the Master of the Dance.

 

You jerk these puppets, limp and helpless,

You have them moving in a trance.

For them there is no vision splendid.

You are the Master of the Dance.