See something through a salacious star-chart,

Eyeball and item with an equestrian mind, 

Your body, it just will dance without you, 

While your mind drifts in stars so fine.                                                                                                                                                                                   

And once you go ahead and trade in, 

All your human accountability, 

You’ll be walking upon a comet’s highway, 

With a head left behind from senility.                                                                                                                                                                                

Balancing on that razor’s edge, 

With nothing in your head but senseless scuffle, 

While walking walking that line, for our entertainment,

Why don’t you dance the horoscope shuffle?