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Here is a short piece written for us by a very talented fan and friend of the band. Enjoy!

Under the night terrace of the café, you sit, alone, and dream of a life, long lost. You sip the deep yearning of Portugal moonlights, and stir in the starry seas of ennui, and cry: "has this life been for mere regret?", and toil over the passions that have since sailed away. Then, without warning, you hear the soothing sounds of an accordion. You lift your head: what is this? Is there hope yet? Have the gods finally answered my tears? A soft light glows in the café window, illuminating three figures of grand stature. You press your ear to the glass, the soft deep thudding of the bass in-sync with your heartbeats, the crisp strings of a guitar pluck at its knots, until it unravels. My God what is that sound? The tender melody of that squeezebox, like your mother's sweet lullabies, caresses your fears, letting you know it's not all in vein. You press harder against the glass, until you feel the warmth of the music running through, filling you with pith. You scream out: It's okay world, I'm here, I'm okay, I live, and breath, and… Suddenly the music stops. The three musicians gaze upon your trembling, sweating, naked body, and say to you: "Hey buddy, why don't get the hell away from the window, we're trying to play in here. Fuckin' weirdo."
By
Jesse Tryon