The floors are slippery with blood: br The world gyrates too. God is good br That while His wind blows out the light br For those who hourly die for is – br We still can dance each night. br br The music has grown numb with death – br But we will suck their dying breath, br The whispered name they breathed to chance, br To swell our music, make it loud br That we may dance, - may dance. br br We are the dull blind carrion-fly br That dance and batten. Though God die br Mad from the horror of the light – br The light is mad, too, flecked with blood, - br We dance, we dance, each night.