When Brian was a very young guitar player, he found himself
in a band with a group of other young musicians who very quickly became very
good friends. The kind of friends that
become brothers. They were constantly
together. They were there for each other
throughout all the excesses of their youth, good and bad. Even after Brian left the band to move to Los
Angeles in pursuit of bigger dreams, they were there, cheering him all the
way. When he returned, they welcomed him
back with open arms. But something
undefinable had changed.
Years later, after they had all settled into life with families of their own, the friendship was still there, but they were never really as close as they had been. It was as if secrets were being kept. Still, they kept in touch with each other through regular phone calls and lunch get-togethers. Then one day, as Brian was sitting down with the family for dinner, some music came drifting in the window from across the neighborhood. Not just any music. HIS music. Songs he had written all those years ago were dancing along the breeze blowing through the windows of his home. These friends of his – these men who had been such a large part of his life for decades – were playing his music without him at a party in his own neighborhood he was not invited to attend. They were playing his music and passing it off as their own with no guilt, no shame, no explanation, and no apology. They had betrayed his friendship and stolen his creation.
This is the betrayal of Raise Your Glass. Brian is the master, the song is the servant, those “friends” are the beast.
Raise Your Glass
Along the trail
The cold wet night
The servant and his master
They walked along
And sang a song
Fi diddly dee da die-o
The air was brisk
The night was still
Was there no need to wonder
The hunt was on
So sing a song
Fi diddly dee da die-o
They had no food
Nowhere to go
This servant and his master
A lonely pair
A shivered song
Fi diddly dee da die-o
Now raise your glass
And sing a toast
And drink until it’s empty
Sing to the east and
Sing to the west
The hunting hounds of hell
They heard a sound
A low down growl
A warning to be minded
A hairy beast
That sang a song
Fi diddly dee da die-o
The charge was fast
The beast attacked
The servant and his master
They had no time
To sing their song
Fi diddly dee da die-o
The master gasped
And tried to breath
As his heart was ripped wide open
The servant laughed
And sang a song
Fi diddly dee da die-o
Now raise your glass
And sing a toast
And drink until it’s empty
Sing to the east and
Sing to the west
The hungry hounds of hell
So off they went
Servant and beast
Along their merry way, yeah
They had the food
They had the song
Fi diddly dee da die-o
The master made
A splendid meal
For the Beast and servant
He filled them up
So sing a song
Fi diddly dee da die-o
So come with me
The Devil makes three
Toasts up to the Master
Raise up your cup
And sing along
The servant & the Master
Now raise your glass
And sing a toast
And drink until it’s empty
Sing to the east
Sing to the west
The drunken hounds of hell
