I don’t know what you’re selling yet
or if I want to buy it
All I know is you’ve already made it past my doorstep
To my living room
To make the pitch, the done deal
We’re circling each other in this ring of fire
Telegraphing shots, reading movements
Intentions
Feints are gods best friend after all
You can’t win the round by breaking someone else’s fall
But then it snaps back and it’s half past half time
Your unscripted awkwardness is the most beautiful French I’ve ever heard
Certainly uncertain
The man behind the curtain
The fighter dying into a seasoned coach
A rebirth bearing witness to the grapple
Maybe I’m too concerned with whether or not to buy this call
Time the swing, take the fall
Maybe absolute value is the key
And I’m still missing the point to it all
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