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.