Wailing and heartache were all that were left
as I cried with the big brass band.
Sorrow and loss and confusion and pain,
Made tuneful with syncopation heart stain.
The sun went out when the sea took his life,
I could never feel good again.
Ripper the Shark drowned , not forgot,
1000 replicas would not replace him.
There were songs and altars and photographs too,
Proof you had been here, proof we loved you.
But nothing could have prepared me for the sound,
Of a marching brass band, wailing for the man who had drowned
Their song was simple, it echoed the pain,
Of a life we lost as we cried in the rain.
Drums pounding, horns screaming, the fire flames high,
Primal silence and screaming, I could only cry.
A Little Bell whispered into my soul,
"If we loved him" she said, "He will never grow old."
His soul is timeless and his message is true,
Lost not forgot, we are still part of his crew.
She said the reason he lived has not changed with his death,
We must all try to furthur his holy quest.
To live without warning, and sing songs with our friends,
The love is still there, it can never end.
He drove fast in the fantasia he made with his hands,
He adapted to sea forms to ride on dry land.
He made missiles to fire the harsh words of peace,
to warlords and monsters he demanded relief!
We love him and miss him, we must endeavour to be,
the people Tom Kennedy would want us to be.
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