What passions lure me out into the moonlit night, I forget… when in the soft glow, it’s quiet, it’s still, I feel a longing to tear off my shirt and run outside… run… rush, like my life depends on it…
silence… are you there, silence? No one replies… only silence…
moonlight washes my bare skin, and I listen… I listen to the night…
What passions find home in me tonight, I fail to comprehend… but I am being observed, I am sure… I stare into the dark shadows of the most ominous tree… darkness stares back at me.
Are you there? No one replies… only silence…
I walk… alone… it’s dark… it’s quiet… I can hear the sound of my footsteps…
What if I turn around…
I am here… my footsteps are here… her footsteps aren’t here… but… what if she’s here… what if I turn around and she’s here… my footsteps would leave me alone with her… maybe they’ll try to find her missing footsteps…
dark… alone… heart pounding… I turn around… it’s dark… it’s quiet… I’m alone… are you there? no one replies… only silence…
Story Of The Footloose 