[INTRO — LOW, DARK, CLOSE] Years ago we started wars in rooms much worse than this. Plans on tables. Knives in boots. Revolution between the drinks. Then, on the eve of another campaign, in a house built for vice— there she was. Raven hair. Black eyes. Amarrian arrogance. And I thought— Oh. This could become inconvenient. But my heart is an anarchist too. [VERSE 1] We had broken laws and borders, burned old certainties away, made alliances with monsters when the alternative was chains. Rebels, rogues and firebrands, Matari, pirates, thieves, everybody loudly certain what another should believe. Then Revan crossed the room toward me, smiling like a loaded gun. Blood Raider. Sovereign. Amarrian. Every warning light came on. I kissed her anyway. [CHORUS] Call it transgression if that helps you sleep at night. I call it dancing with the woman that I love. A revolution without dancing isn't worth the blood we spend. And my bed is not a committee. Comrade— this discussion ends. [VERSE 2] Yes, I know exactly who she is. You needn't whisper in my ear. I have read the affiliations. I have noticed the fucking hierarchy here. She believes in things I don't believe. I oppose things she commands. We have argued God and sovereignty with wine glasses in our hands. Then touched. Then laughed. Then fucked. Then argued more. Because disagreement isn't chains. Freedom doesn't mean I only kiss the people who agree with me. [CHORUS] Call it transgression if that helps you sleep at night. I call it dancing with the woman that I love. A revolution without dancing isn't worth the blood we spend. And my bed is not a committee. Comrade— this discussion ends. [VERSE 3] Then a propagandist caught my shoulder, urgent voice beneath the sound: “Jade, think about appearances. Think what this does to us now. An agitator has a dignity. People watch the things you do. She's everything we're fighting.” I said— “No. She's everything she is. And I'm still everything I am too.” You want to challenge fleet doctrine? Good. You want to question policy? Please. You want to tell me whom I'm allowed to desire? Take your revolutionary purity and get the fuck away from me. [BUILD — HARDER] No priest decides. No state decides. No party line decides. No council. No movement. No fucking ideological tribunal gets jurisdiction over this body. Isn't that rather the point? [CHORUS] Call it transgression. Call it reckless. Call it shame. Write a pamphlet if you need to. Put my private life in flames. But a revolution without dancing is just another kind of cage. And I did not break the old world open to ask permission at this stage. [VERSE 4 — DARKER, MORE INTIMATE] So I went back across the room. Back to raven hair and danger. Back to lips that tasted sweet and cruel, back to my beautiful stranger. Her hand beneath my flight jacket. My pulse beneath her palm. Outside, fleets prepared for killing. Inside— for a moment— fire, stars, the tapestry— everything becoming desire. Not agreement. Not surrender. Not conversion. Not defeat. Just two difficult women choosing where their bodies want to meet. [BRIDGE — CLOSE] And yes— perhaps I was infatuated. Perhaps dangerously so. Perhaps I knew exactly how far I was already willing to go. That is mine. My mistake to make. My pleasure. My scar. My heart. You don't defend my freedom by deciding what freedoms I may have. [FINAL CHORUS] Call it transgression if you need a word for this. I call it Revan pulling me closer for another kiss. A revolution without dancing is no revolution worth the name. No gods. No masters. No permission. And no fucking shame. [OUTRO — NEAR SPOKEN] Who am I sleeping with? None of your business. Who am I loving? Still none of your business. Will I hear your logistical feedback? Certainly. Tomorrow. At the meeting. Tonight— My heart is an anarchist too So Move Monsieur. And don't you fucking stop me while I'm dancing.
