The humid air, Subic Bay's soft sigh,
Seventies' sun beneath a turquoise sky.
Within those walls where laughter used to ring,
My young heart found where melodies could spring.
The polished backs of bandurrias gleamed,
A constellation where our fingers dreamed.
Octavina's deeper voice, a steady friend,
While laud's bright notes would gracefully ascend.
Remember Mang Tino with patient, knowing hand,
Guiding our chords...
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