Less talk, more dancing 

If we could push off the sick conversation one more night 

I surely would 

My shoes have gathered the dust of the vineyard 

Have I soiled your gown? 

There's soil on your gown, like sangria 

Cleanses the heart 

Our clogged hearts are choking on the grime 

As the big band waltzes on 

Your 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? 



Oh, but was it sweet 

In the vineyard 

Sangria, won't you bless 

The starving lips 

Such virgin lips 

Would choke on all this grime 

I've found some dirt under my nails 

I'll scratch and bite until... 



The dirt is out 

but sangria burns under my skin 

The dirt is out -- 

I thought I'd never wash these hands again 



Under my skin....