Muse

The dance floor was dark, the air was full of electricity
The people, full of smoke and the spirits full of booze
Each bottle’s got a call mark
The melodies strike and pluck a string of complicity
A pair of eyes cut through the pitch black cloak
And they pluck a passion that’s a poetic’s muse
The dance floor was vibrant, the air was full of disarray
The people, full of lust and the spirits full of love
They know they can drive, it’s blatant
Simply put to tease and leave the rest in dismay
Confused, we try to rebuild from this interplanetary dust
I bet this is the kind of thing her eyes get a lot of
You, though, should know
A poetic would kill and a musician would starve
At just a hint of temptation
So take this as the only compliment you may receive
This passion comes from the Infinite Space of Imagination
And the Infinite Time of Dreams
Those eyes, halt. My thoughts, halt. The Muse, halt.
Don’t let it confuse you, for the Muse is just a thought

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