Last night I danced, or it might have been this morning, who knows. Who knows when you have your dreams, all I know is the realisation of waking up, and knowing that it wasn't real. Just your imagination, deciphering the day you've had into the sub-conscience. Telling you the things you fear, or want, or hate, or love. Why do I want to dance so much, I hate dancing, it makes me feel like an idiot.