Less talkmore dancingIf we could push off the sick conversation one more nightI surely wouldMy shoes have gathered the dust of the vineyardHavE I soiled your gown?There s soil on your gownlike sangriaCleanses the heartOur clogged hearts are choking on the grimeAs the big band waltzes onYour stranded eyes whisper..."The dirt is out.I can smell her on your velvet hands."The dirt is out --are we stuck in the motions again?Ohbut was it sweetIn the vineyardSangriawon t you blessThe starving lipsSuch virgin lipsWould choke on all this grimeI ve found some dirt under my nailsI ll scratch and bite until...The dirt is outbut sangria burns under my skinThe dirt is out --I thought I d never wash these hands againUnder my skin....

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