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.