He twitches, he switches,

When he thinks no one can see,

I wonder what

He thinks he can be.

 

A composer, a dancer,

None of us can tell,

He is caught

In this voodoo spell.

 

When we look, he stops,

He pauses mid dance,

Until we remove

Our judging glance.

 

We leave, he stays,

And on he goes,

A conductor, an actor,

No one really knows.

 

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