With one hand upon his chest and the other stretched to the night
There’s a man dancing in the street below with a partner hidden from my sight.
The glassy wet brick beneath his feet reflects the full moon to my eye.
His steps are free, and the air is so sweet, as if he’s dancing the whole world goodbye.
‘Round and ‘round his soft shoe glides like falling leaves moving side-to-side
‘Round and ‘round a breath of autumn in his stride ad the most gentleness I’ve seen in his smile.
So I call down to the quiet street, but not a word from my mouth does he hear,
Or only so I think when he changes his step, and the answer becomes crystal clear.
I’ll be fine in a slow waltzing time: 1,2,3,1,2,3.
All I really need is a rhythm and me until someone comes along who can change my mind.
So I sit and I think for awhile, “Why am I always sitting and thinking?”
I have to get up and spin like a child, ‘cause I don’t want to die while I’m sinking.
So down the steps to the slick, cold brick – I hope I’m not doing this in vain.
Now two grown men separately sweep through the town –
They hear a different tune but the music is the same.