Surely there must be an idol here
Up behind the bar, some statuette
Forced into a painful pirouette
Whose honor we should guard
Let the quick wit, thick wit,
Leave the lower baser minds flailing
She would not stay straight
Or a barstool she'll kindly lay
While for dolts she'll stick petrified
Between the register an d stack of trays
A nightingale yet to age into fluidity
Which will finally send the piano's wires
To its hollowed home of muteness
Will be shed to the maiming lion memory
To in turn their intended anthemnity
Or reduce folks to lonely,
Oh, I recall the dance with Lily
Your queenly stance recalls her spirit here
But this id ol has no mind
Yet not without joy our princess reigns
It is her pearlies what keeps her throne
Hovering twixt joy and pain
twink, and say I love you, dear
Pull yourself a bodily call, some strength in