Verse.

On the side streets of Harrow,
Where the ally's are narrow,
Im worn to the bone, but music's my marrow.
Puma's on concrete, the swede turning grey,
Turn the corner, you'll see me, horizontal Ballet.
Feet chasing fingers, that take half the strain,
Drill the sets, count the steps, again and again.
Landing on backs, elbow bruise, apple jacks,
Threads, spin on heads, Soul's Godfather's tracks,
Mind on routine: what has never been seen?
To you it is me, to the world a machine.
My hands are all dirty, but inside i am clean.
Two samuel, chapter 6, verse fourteen.

Joseph Landreth-Smith. - RBM