The music is playing,
vibrating the air
You move in time,
but not in line
The crowds part for you,
like the Red Sea for Moses
Your perfect form slinking,
drinking in the vibes
Dry ice becomes haunted mist,
coloured strobes become aurora borealis
Your voice becomes a sacred chant,
your movements become an ancient dance
You are the Siberian,
cold untouchable perfection
Eyes of frozen flame fall on me,
and I answer the unspoken call
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