Old Spirits have a way of touching that kid inside...
As time rusts, Mr. Brown, I know it cuts when things no longer coincide...
I respect your peace, raw and proper,
the way you nurture your trees is moral fibre
Mr Brown, you pray to God to see yet another day, as if awaiting the day  the predator becomes prey
I wish you best blends...we've shared blacks and burned rocks,
I'll miss your best blend
Your aura is never down, even though your former and much older,
Mr. Brown...