What once were feral feet that stalked the floor,
Now rest until piano’s play.
Their master schemes and asks that they
Seduce the floor to melted flames.
At what putrid pub dared they to dance
By Buenos Aires’ murky docks?
There they pursued the tango dance,
Engaged in fleeting ecstasy.
The billowed air of perfumed soot allowed
Deceptive steps to hide their game.
For now, these feet will bide their time,
Awaiting matches to be lit,
When devil’s hands will strike the keys.
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