Feti's Rhythm in the Warmth (Remix)
A song made by Mojalefa Magae
Feti's Rhythm in the Warmth (Remix)
A song made by Mojalefa Magae
(Verse 1)
The frost is painting patterns on the window pane
While the firelight dances, chasing away the rain
Thirty years of seasons, they’ve blurred into a line
From the dusty street corners to this estate so fine
We’re sitting here in luxury, the world feels soft and deep
With memories of the younger days that we still hold to keep
Feti, old friend, look at how the tables turned
From the struggle in the backyard to the comfort we have earned.
(Chorus)
Oh, the winter wind is blowing, but we’re warm inside the glow
With the brother of my childhood, in the place we’ve come to know
Feti, you’re my neighbor, through the decades and the climb
We’re echoing the rhythms from a long-forgotten time
Yeah, the bongo drums are calling, even if the skins aren’t there
Just the ghost of all those melodies still hanging in the air.
(Verse 2)
Do you remember the tinned cans? The makeshift, hollow sound?
We were kings of the rhythm on that hard and rocky ground
You had the magic in your fingers, a gift that wouldn’t bend
A talent born in poverty, but faithful to the end
The neighbors used to grumble, but we didn’t care a thing
We were masters of the kitchen-bin, waiting for the swing
Now we’re watching city lights from a terrace made of glass
But your rhythm’s still as sharp as it was back in the grass.
(Bridge)
You haven’t lost a beat, man, the way your fingers tap
Against the arm of the leather chair, bridging every gap
Between the boy who played for nothing and the man who’s got it all
You still keep the tempo steady, you’re the one who hears the call
Thirty years of stories, and we’ve only scratched the skin
Feti, brother, play it loud—let the memories begin.
(Chorus)
Oh, the winter wind is blowing, but we’re warm inside the glow
With the brother of my childhood, in the place we’ve come to know
Feti, you’re my neighbor, through the decades and the climb
We’re echoing the rhythms from a long-forgotten time
Yeah, the bongo drums are calling, even if the skins aren’t there
Just the ghost of all those melodies still hanging in the air.
(Outro)
So let the winter freeze the night, let the frost settle down
We’ve got the rhythm of the childhood that brought us to this town
From tins on the pavement to the softlife state of mind
The music never faded, it’s the best thing that we find.
Yeah, the bongo plays on.
My brother.
My friend.
From the start, until the end.
