Wolves Howling For Fallon, The Prophet

Just a little salute to Neil Fallon, singer of the rock band Clutch, and a frickin' genius.

The bearded prophet of the yankee states, on a pilgrimage to the South,

compresses, in his clenched fist, air pushed from the speaker stack,

and throws it like holy water from his pulpit on the stage,

under lights, eyes wild, spittle flying,

possessed by the Holy Spirit, and The Devil in turn, his Rock n' Roll sermon

enlightens! Redeems! Saves and absolves!

Wild horses couldn't hold him back!

We watch him dance, his crazy leg keeps time, banging on the boards,

arms waving like the tentacles of Cthulu , his soul burns like fire,

channelling James Brown at the white kid's Rock Show:

"You go in peace, my sons and daughters, divide and conquer,

with The Word passing your lips on every street corner and avenue,"

and we, the Guided Faithful, will have the wolves howl for you from beyond the spotlight,

a triumphant note for the triumphant return. 

The End

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