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....