Stuck in these too tight shoes, makes it hard to walk.  Can't even dance with them on, and all I want to do is dance.  Bound to this stake waiting to be burned.  Slow. Slow. Slowly now.  Waiting.  My teeth are falling out, before I get to bite that apple.  I don't care if it's poisonous.  I want to taste this would, even if it's rotting.  I want to skip down a street in London.  I want to skip, skip, trot, run, fall, and skip again.  But my big toe is cut off, and when I try to crawl I see that my arms are broken.  Stuck.  Stuck in these too tight shoes.