An accordion on the radio is working hard
Through the hands and legs of a carpenter
Next door the accordion is his corazon
In the radio of his body no matter
What he's building I can't tell
If it's a kitchen or a city
Whatever the accordion wants
Leaping impishly around the yard
Tempting his doctor's surgical precision
With a dancer's dangerous life
Cutting back the possibilities
Of bone and wood and stone
Putting all his feeling in the form
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