Vārdi: Every Time I Die. Broadway.

This isn't at all unpleasant. I'm enchanted by the lavish ballet, and I'll
whistle the tune all the way to the gallows that I heard at the cabaret. At
the sheriff's signal, the orchestra moves the floor. Don't it make you feel
wonderful? Body twisting strictly ballroom. Criminally elegant, ideal
postured Viennese waltzer. I'm dressed to kill. I'm weightless and well
rehearsed. In my godless opera my characater is canonized. Uphand me. This
is a musical and nothing goes wrong. Can't keep the classics out of the head
of the masochists. Strike up the band. It's 245 beats for a measure or 5
beats per 6 steps on alternating feet. The show must go on. Never mind the
teeth and fingernails, the show must go on. I don't feel at all like I

thought I would, but I could probably go on like this forever. Tonight, we
dance, for tomorrow they release the dogs. 1,2,3. Keep it up. 1,2,3. Savor
it. (Where is my head? Where is my heart?) Everything vanishes.