She plays to mimic harps and dance and form thereof The great bashed dingy thing is glossed with extra coats of drone string grease to ease and abound Ribbing notes and notes meretriciously Never brazened by shy low count numbers of heads when live Always accommodated by the secreted bar life She plays a province of many never back for second shows Your luck is idled to capture the girl and her Bazantar Zero rendezvous of travel by car Zero by plane or train She is as spurious as main instrument held Unknown is her home, and unknown is her name The many graceful played and sowed from baryton, vilola d,amore, lute, and sitar Only predilection to her is he the Bazantar Basking her flare slight tilted and wared He is meek but bold with her as his gold and him as her stone They are eternity prone The 33-stringed object and girl implode Nothing less than reciprocal to her Bazantar flow