Damp dollar notes exchange sweaty palms, He's 5-1 favourite in 6 rounds of superior tostestorone, Bikini clad flesh candy parade their charms, In a white tiled dressing room the boxer sits alone. He applies vaseline to loosen the skin, Inhales menthol vapors for better exhalation, Practices his entrance now he?s ready to begin, Fame and fortune 6 degrees of seperation. In the ring he eyeballs his opponent, Whispers in his ear 'you'll be down in a moment?, He hears the crowd cheer him, Sweat falls from his brow from the media circus near him, The bell rings he sashays and swings, Poetry in motion, Connects perfectly on to his cheek, He feels his jaw break through 1 inch of fibres, He follows it up with a left, right combination, Then his opponent hits the floor, His knees have gone, Lost in round 1 from a flaw in his concentration. Move like a butterfly sting like a bee, Poetry in Motion, Muhammad Ali.