People become me when watching paint dry. To what extent? 'To death!', they cry.

First, second, third.. So many ways to encounter me. Just keep the anal probing to a minimum if you please!

I’m the nipple’s tiny curtain, spinning in a whirl, A decorative flair for the exotic dancing girl.

Show up to duel, or maybe you'd rather a solo performance, Get in the open circle, spin around on your head, maybe swing your legs around your hands, Don't be misconstrued, if you think I've been dormant, I'm a master of Power Moves, and I'll collect those bands

I might look small, but I'm a bottomless pit. I hold your phone, money, hand cream, you name it. Sunglasses, chapstick, your keys, a little nail kit? Sure, why not. My inside is infinit.