Shall our motion of our feet create this harmony?
When asked to dance, hands on the hips,
1..2..3.. Countless rhythm kisses my lips.
Why such repetition, sticking us like honey,
How should we create this music?

Boredom drives the melody of every tick
Why torture myself to glare at the clock?
So serene, my nature, to every knock.
Infested to this virus to make me sick,
How shall I create this music?

And how should We create such music?
When our tempo becomes so slow
How can we become so bound with snow?
Energized and hyped with every kick,
Let's dance dance dance to your pick.