Caught between some poison frame,
like some wordless author
or a paper thin crown,
the game of days had gotten lame
- soaked in oil and water
and weed to weigh them down.

Thus, I came upon a crew
with music bright and new
that brewed in gifted few.
We fused like few others do
we sang upon a cliff-side
a kinship then ensued.

They've separate eyes but I call them Francobollo
Like fleeting skies a friendship could sustain
... like songs jammed only once.

By the grace of Yama's rainbow tune,
beneath the marquee moon
that Butcher Pete consumed...
Bengt Gritty ignites a snare typhoon -
and paints a rhythm coastline
like a treble clef of dunes.

Dr Sound is gone now, and I need some explanation
but the door is open til he finds his destination...
I just hope that he finds it soon.

To each I say to you, Live on!
and celebrate the dark times
you see along the ride.
For each degree of knowing's spell,
I mean to know you well
like past times our makers have devised.

You'll survive, your sound is too demanding!
So keep alive that fire in your shell,
'Cause there's always fire when love is inspiration...
And it's inspiring when you know you've got through hell.
So keep close knowing's spell...
And toast all te good you'll sell...
And long live life as well...