| The Minstrel in the Gallery looked down upon the smiling faces.
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| He met the gazes — observed the spaces between the old men’s cackle.
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| He brewed a song of love and hatred — oblique suggestions — and he waited.
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| He polarized the pumpkin-eaters — static-humming panel-beaters — freshly
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| day-glo'd factory cheaters (salaried and collar-scrubbing).
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| He titillated men-of-action — belly warming, hands still rubbing on the
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| parts they never mention.
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| He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating one-line jokers — T.V.
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| documentary makers (over-fed and undertakers).
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| Sunday paper backgammon players — family-scarred and women-haters.
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| Then he called the band down to the stage and he looked at all the friends
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| he’d made.
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| The Minstrel in the Gallery looked down upon the smiling faces.
|
| He met the gazes — observed the spaces in between the old men’s cackle.
|
| And he brewed a song of love and hatred — oblique suggestions — and he waited.
|
| He polarized the pumpkin-eaters — static-humming panel-beaters.
|
| The Minstrel in the Gallery looked down on the rabbit-run.
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| And threw away his looking-glass — saw his face in everyone.
|
| Hey!
|
| He titillated men-of-action — belly warming, hands still rubbing on the
|
| parts they never mention (salaried and collar-scrubbing).
|
| He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating one-line jokers — T.V.
|
| documentary makers (over-fed and undertakers).
|
| Sunday paper backgammon players — family-scarred and women-haters.
|
| Then he called the band down to the stage and he looked at all the friends
|
| he’d made.
|
| The Minstrel in the Gallery looked down on the rabbit-run.
|
| And he threw away his looking-glass and saw his face in everyone.
|
| Hey!
|
| The Minstrel in the Gallery. |
| Yes!
|
| Looked down upon the smiling faces.
|
| He met the gazes. |
| Yeah!
|
| Mm. |
| The Minstrel in the Gallery. |