Harold Zingers the Zebra with Monkey Fingers

<p><strong style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Harold Zingers wasn't normal. Not even a bit.</strong></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>He had monkey fingers... and stripes that wouldn't quit.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>He played the piano with flair funk and grace-</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>But the zebras around him just stared bored into space.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>So he packed up his dreams and his old piano case</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Left hoofprints in hay and a tear on his face.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>The savannah was boring. The city was loud.</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>He'd play for the streets for the weird and the proud.</span></p><p></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>From old folks to hot dogs from kids to small clubs</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>From awkward missteps to big roaring hubs-</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Harold discovered that being unique</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Wasn't a curse. It was music. It </span><em style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>spoke</em><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>.</span></p>