Franz Beckenbauer
¶ 1
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And the visionary eye
Glorious and bold
And the technique
Beautifully clean
And true as gospels
And the soul
The soul king
The soul impeccable
With a sensual clarity
Nowhere scarred by the hapless
Tackles that slipped harness
To lunge with the dying breath
Of shattered legs
Tilting at imaginary boots.
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