The Joyful Headache

There's a drumming in my soul,
Though I'm afraid I'll lose control
I'll lose control
And lose my footing
I'll lose control
And hit the railing.
There's a drumming I can't control,
And I'm afraid I'll lose my soul.

So what if you lose your footing?
Loss of footing leads to twirling,
And twirling into leaping,
And leaping into creeping,
And still creeping into whirling,
Foxtrotting, Quick-stepping,
Cha-cha-chaing, Box-stepping
Waltzes and Tangoes and
Lose your soul? Are you sure?
I don't think so, not you.
You would own the floor.

There's a drumming in my soul,
"Return to roots", so says they.
But must I? Do I have to?
Oh God, the tribal beats are thund'rous,
Shouting "Go Go Go!"
But go where? And Go how?
It doesn't matter, stupid Worry!
Shut your mouth, raise your hands, and enjoy the ride!
Sit over there next to Sloth, and if you two speak,
So help me, I'll gag Sloth with a Cloth,
And you will feel my Fury, Worry! So Help me
I'll put duck tape on you and throw you into a closet until I forget you are there.

Okay... I think I'll do it...
By Golly, I may just do it...
Sweet Jesus! I'm losing my footing!
To the drumming of my soul I've
Lost Control I've Lost
Control I've Lost Control I've
Lost Control!

People stare and people laugh
People clap and people smile
And people wonder "Can I still do that?
I know it's been quite a while..."

But I don't care, and I don't mind,
I've got to dance while I've got the time.
That time is here; the place, now,
I'll lose my footing even if I fall down,
And the naysayers will hear me laugh when I do,
And if you're a naysayer, I'm laughing at you.

To be meek, I must first stop being weak,
To be strong, I must adorn the weighted sarong
And to be wise, I must first apologize,
Recognize the drumming in my soul,
With the bliss that is losing control.