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Roll up, roll up, roll up. Yes! Tonight you will see him improvise with chains, You will see him pull them from his very own shoulders. He will be seen tearing off the manacles of old ideas And he will search above his head for his frontier, His dream, and his freedom out there in terra incognita. But now his sculpted body is hyperventilated And he is ready for the plunge He waits to be sealed in the vat. The water covers him and he lives unusual now And the audience watch as he squirms airless They hold their breath with him until they exhaust, his restraints rattling in the silence of his grunt and he becomes smaller, enough to release him in his moment; Slowly the chains drop weightless and he falls out of the straightjacket and he rises to a surface of applause, his arm reaching up like a statue out of the water an island of gasping head an shoulders holding aloft his liberty in his hand.
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