Decade of so many moods so tail only one


    Tale of a brigadier to a general


    Shadow to a darker light


    Little Wolfgang to having his own wolf-pack


    He only howl sometimes, most times he slink slicks with his new guard


    He the avant of the sLums but not always so.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Sixth metamorphosis,


    From the sea nymph, the dark, the pink, the blurs, the feet


    Even the stint in the sarcophagi where he was denied gold but came out coinin’ terms


    Denied the soul’s currency but came out with golden veins


    Silver-tongue eloquence eclipses the without


    Find it within seeking solace in little Wolfgang’s feet of clay.