They Dance

They dance, the lonely ones
They dance, their expressions clear
They dance, and when their done
Their mask is still there

Moving with strange beauty
To their own shrieking tune
Slowing with their own one-two beat
To partner with Life's groom

Swinging their arms round
With primitive flair
Making guttural sounds
With their last breath of air

He dances his last dance what a beautiful sight
She dances her last dance, the knife takes them to night