Over two rubber soles
He pulls down his skinny jeans.
In his apple-red jacket,
with two double-basses
in his hands,
He kicks into boxes of flat notes,
He doesn't care for style,
hasnt been long at school,
But he glides like a Jumbo between the soundwalls,
It makes a sort of maze all around his house.
People think him a bit strange,
But Symphoman was born from some forgotten dream,
that fizzes there in my ear
like the bubbles in a glass of Mozart-Soda.
At John-Sebastian's snack,
He can be met sometimes,
He orders a crisps -piano
and a habanera ice-cream.
He be bop a lula drives,
doesn't care for style, he is not gifted for that,
But he glides like a Jumbo between the soundwalls,
It makes a sort of maze all around his house..
People think him a bit strange,
But Symphoman was born from some forgotten dream,
that fizzes there in my ear
like the bubbles in a glass of Mozart-Soda.