The Do i.m. Mike Pentelow We all turned up, we wept, we laughed, we drank and ate our fill of you. Your ghost was here, we felt it strong; no one can quite believe you're gone. The sky lit up above the Tower, communists across the lands sat up, noticed something wrong; a falter in our strongest voice, a missing note, a poorer song. We're out of tune now you are gone.