The Banjo, she is like the woman. This I know, though I know nothing of the woman. I am young still, and unpracticed in the ways of the flesh. Still, when the time comes for me to change from boy to man, I shall be ready... for I banjo!

"Banjo" is a noun, but I have made it a verb, for this is how I play the banjo.

I banjo.

I banjo for hours on end, every day. My tips of my fingers have become calloused, but the rest remain ever so nimble. Skilled. I am vigorous my banjo, but caring as well. Violent, but loving. I and my banjo are a study in contrasts.

Look into my eyes, there is fire in them, no? Listen to my banjo, there is fire in the music as well. My fire in my eyes and the fire in my music mingle and merge and become a conflagration. That conflagration has a name, it's name is passion. Passion pronounced with sibilant "s"s - pass-ee-yon.

A fire needs to be fed, you know.

Feed me.