A masterpiece of perfectly protruded behaviour – the silent wild-child with magic for intertwined fingers

To play it one last day and always and forever a far-stretched, -fetched thing of utter chaos

This bodacious bewilderment tends to work hidden wonders when least suspected – ferocious focus from seemingly nowhere so very special
A guide for fighting survival

And a respectful concentration lends itself to all out discomfort – and the piano-hands come down right round

Twice as enticed
Thrice might be exceptionally nice

A multi-syllabic tune to set these eager imbeciles of industrious industry apart, a problematic portrayal of inconsolable inadequacy midst high, high Art-attack

He’s about to fasten himself by these singing heart-strings and to have his over-elongated, undeniably, purposely pernicious say

A way with sweet, sweet delirium delightfully twisted and immaculately imprisoned midst unforgettable remembrance – have to ask though, did he really manage to break the glass-ceiling?

They say that he did it at the pace of an eagle… electrified my life, knife-edge precision midst mandatory decisions