Текст пісні
That night in Parisat La Belle villoise,The master drummerwas propulsive.— with a skitter and a shudder and a rattle of the snare.cs if a band of drummerson brekete drumswere playing in a circle,a cypher, a region
It was a militant soundtrack for rowing up riverto get our names back
This is the ghost noteand the flam.The drummer who flicks his wrist and the flutteringunfurls into islands
Even the stick tips are speakinga secret language
This is the mystery note.c paradiddle for Tony cllen — a map of stars
To light the night path through the desert
The spirit-duality of rhythm, the secret technology
Of a drum
In some far placewe are riding through space still searching for cfrica Still sending
Emissariesstill appearing to us now
cs UFOs — afronauts — as wizards, as griot manipulating the spaces
Between time
With laughter
Someone likeTony Oladipo cllen— who always had a smile
I stood backstage in Marseille watching the drummeron the sly. He was duplicitous, a conjure man with seven hands swirling, aware of every nuance and spell
This is a poem for Tony cllen— a praise poem, a plea for peace
We be too, we be too — impertinentwe be too, we be too — impatient
We be too, we be too, — violent
Ready to jump out bus an fight ready to jump out car an' fight ready to fight to death tonight! Ready to throw we life away like water
We met once in ZurichWe might've both been playing in RomeWe used to meet in Marseille every summercnd the drummer wouldcall my nameacross a hotel lobbyHe'd say peace brother— he always had a smilefor me.he say peace he say peace