Shine on, homeboy. You're my fast-paced resonating crust; whirlwind overdrive; distinctively soaring fuzz thrashing against the walls of sound. High octane stoner rock god up in the skies of a means to an end, yeah I'm the one. Stay gold, for austerities shall never outpower us. Thy soldiers will rise, lest they have outpowered the flames. And then you will inhale the smokes of my dope and you will stare at the vacant road where all the relentless nights come; wolves out. Death match is pretending that I'm alright and the world's fine as it is. Check mate, I have never seen you alive. Always on the run but never with a reigning head on the clouds. Things grow obsolete and I have learned to be a seizer of all things gold— today I am the indestructible master of war. But homeboy, what am I without your distorted riffs and solemnly poignant lamentations. I am irresistible and indestructible but you are way more than that. I would love my favorite dopesmoker beyond words; standing up on the mountains that envisage voices of hollow forces. So tell me, is it that I love(d) the ones I don't deserve or is it that I love(d) the ones who don't deserve me? Today I heard about you and the fact that you're leaving the underworld— the world that has caressed and nurtured us dearly. You said it was over. You loved me so—— that you would prefer cutting the streams of our days than having the scythe of death disintegrate us apart. It would give a foretaste of lifetime desolation, you said. If you were the only one who had to die faster. Bold as dead, I am. We both will shine on because I was brave— and I fought for what I believe in. But, again, you're way more than that.