He Thinks He Can Dance

he prances on the stage
his mind on his moves
swirling with the music
of fan's idolisation
he hears their words
of praises and adoration

but he doesn't know them
he doesn't have a friend
the only ones he has
had left long ago
because of his arrogance
still he dances in bliss

the dance is over
the music died away
'hotdamn, the music was good'
he hears them say
it is not for him they scream
he knows know

He leaves through the exit
his tears on his nose
like a diadem of failure
of sadness and shame
it was never him, never has been
it was just the music in his dreams

He leaves the building
good riddance for bad rubbish
nobody is weeping
he only hears his heart beats.