I saw Mrs. Troffea through my kitchen window, looking rather pale and thin though (I dunno)
Whilst her face looked weary, her body moved in frenzy
Wild & tempestuously. Really!
I called “Ma'am, are you alright? It's quite after midnight. The moon is off-white
And very bright
She looked bang-on at me, all contorted, ghastly
And said, no, gasped at me -
“Do you know why it is I cannot stop dancing? I try to calm myself but I keep on dancing
My feet are killing me, hips are failing me, I can't breathe oh..
Can someone tell me why I cannot stop dancing?
No really sir, I think that I have a problem -
I'm out of rhythm~the beat is missing ~it's non-existent”
Then from out of nowhere, people came and joined in, and boogie'd down until the morning (not me though)
What a sight to witness , peasants in the dawnglow with muddy pantaloon-o's (psychos!)
“Hot blood” cited officials. “Excited individuals”
And from my window, I saw them call in musicians!
To play the rhythms to get it outta their systems
But they were screaming now -
“Does anyone know why I cannot stop dancing?
I'm serious I really cannot stop dancing
My toes are blistery, knees are history, I can't see oh..
I cannot breathe and yet I cannot stop dancing
My hair is shedding, teeth are rotted and rancid
It's been a week I've been on this street, I can barely speak-oh
The sound of scuffling sandals echoed out across the wind
Hordes of people bobbing, bleeding from their scabby shins
One by one they'd wig out, then collapse down on the ground
Piling up and forming a disturbing body mound
There they swayed and writhed and crunched. Those poor 400 souls
Falling to their death exhausted, don't know how to stop
Music made it worse, that was a very bad idea
Not efficacious, more contagious, less than gracious, quite hellacious
Now my whole family's buried in those mountains
And all my friends are dead, they died of dancing