Disco Inferno

Her ass
Churning butter on the dance floor
Stoking fires in the loins of men
Burning her way through
Last Dance
and
Asking "could you be my Mr. Right?"
As her ass
Seared all thought from the brain
And all that remained was the
Bump-bump of her rump
Grooving to the strobed beat
And you could see the eyes
Following
Her ass
Like that
Little dot above the words
To a sing-along video
Up and down and all around
Mary      a           lamb
       had little
All they saw was
Ass       Ass
        Ass
As Travolta nearly crooned
And her dance begged
For eyes on her eyes
A soul to soul connection
But all they saw was
Ass
Up and down and all around
Mary           a           lamb
      had         little
And the lamb was sacrificed
In the fire she propagated
On a white-hot
Turning spit
As her ass
Burned up the dance floor
Polyester pyromaniac
Leisure suit electricity
Discotheque inferno