Your dime your dance; the dream's on me, no charge

Lost in the highlight reel of your day was a memory of a moment, a brief respit, when you could relax and let your body and mind slip into the cool shadows. Hank musta felt this deep inside when he tickled the notes to shape this ehtereal blast of fizz. It is the stuff dreams are made of, spun so fine, like cotton candy sugar, into a feeling.