45*21

that's why they were stirring the cauldrons of their eyes
a rose is a rose is a jack knife
I'll never forget the sun dogs
a frustration with tuning, a brilliant ragtag
with such grace and ease
and that description fits like on nobody else
when I see him play I want to pick it up
but stunned, I toss one back
here's to you man! gone and too young
but what an old presence follows you like a stain
a crossing of paths would have been cool I suppose
but I would have come up with it all wrong
and it is best toward a distance to keep that path
sounds like he was the carpenter of tunes
building some sort of house of song
hell! it is built of spirit so tangible
you can't miss take it
it is the kind off the cuff that graces the mind
of the true hosts of heart the blood pumps
ever so much and the shear heat of it
is almost exhaust that's a pleasure to breathe