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I don't know nothin...to me she moves like a trained dancer.

She's a maniac, that's for sure.

She's a maniac, maniac on the floor - and she's dancing like she never danced before.

On the ice-filled line of sanity, it's a place most never see - It's a hard-won place of mystery, you can touch it but can't hold it. You work all your life for that moment in time, it can come or pass you by. It's a push of the world but there's always a chance, if the hunger stays alive

There's a cold kenetic heat, struggling, stretching for the beat. Never stopping with her hair against the wind