she's uncomfortable with silence she keeps the rhythm with her shoes i see the butterflies inside her i wonder when she'll let 'em loose (chorus:) what've you got to lose? get yourself some real tapping shoes go outside and tell the world your news it's suicide what you've done to these blues turned 'em into red, cinnamon, something like a dead politician's dream, but never too extreme, her father says it isn't practical she'll wind up broken on the street but i can see the magic in her toes and feel the rhythm in her feet (chorus) turned 'em into gray rythm fades away