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Freestyle

Put the coat on the horse,
Warm your vocal cords,
Here is the mike,
Where is the curtain call?
 
There's never any genius,
In the salt mines,
Meet me at water's edge,
Make order out of time.
 
It's the magic,
That you do so fine,
With 6 strings,
And 10 fingers aligned.
 
Freestyle!
Freestyle!
But not to beguile,
Give it a trial,
Why not listen a while?
 
Give some food,
To the starving artist,
Become the pack leader,
Or a child of opposites.
 


©1999-2017 Steve Bujanow

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