SONG:
ARTIST: grant.
SOURCE: Based on “Zoologger: Dancing in time makes crabs sexual failures“, New Scientist, 4 December 2014, as used in the post “Dancing to the beat makes fiddler crab sexual… failures.”
ABSTRACT: Are songs about dancing dumb? I dunno. Hard to resist those plucky little fiddler crabs. I grew up watching them climbing out of their holes in the banks of the Intracoastal and lifting their claws and waving. Hi. Hi. Hi. Here I am.
The bridge is based on my memories of their rhythm.
The rest of it is a waltz, which is where I go when I go “dance,” for whatever reason. Poor guys.
I’m not sure the strings really carry the mood here, but I dunno. Why not the drama? This is, after all, life and death of the species.
LYRICS:
The moon shines on this beach bar
The second Friday every month
And the guys and I come out here
To try one more time for a futureCH:
Not even dancing works.
I blend right into the furniture
All this rejection hurts
Not even dancing works
The band is always playing
They play our favorite song
We raise our fists together
When the right one comes alongCH:
Not even dancing works.
I blend right into the furniture
All this rejection hurts
Not even dancing works
Some are skinny, some are tired
And some can’t keep the beat
Some scuttle home with someone elseAnd I need this
CH:
Not even dancing works.
(For a future)
I blend right into the furniture
(Raise our fists)
All this rejection hurts
(We scuttle home)
Not even dancing works.