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The boy writes poetry, plays his guitar and sings. He sits on an old steamer trunk atop a bicycle seat and stomps his foot. He stomps so hard his right leg is larger than his left. The girl has a voice like the angels. She also adds a unique brand of hand percussion, though troubles tend to disappear when she sings. Together they're wonderfully unpredictable. Quiet pretty songs, coupled with those that will bite your head off is a common theme.