another obituary in the paper today
one more for the list of those who've already fallen. another one of our comrades is taken down
like so many others of our calling. we tweet our anecdotes
or we sing his songs in some sad tribute
while the tabloids are holding a story of kiss and tell
that he's no longer able to deny or refute. 50
000 voices rising every time he'd sing
and every word he ever wrote reflecting back to him. how well i remember the stadiums we played
and the lights sweeping across a sea of 50
000 souls we'd face. a serious drug that you could never kick
or one that you couldn't imagine you'd ever replace. we flew like kites on the wings of amphetamine
secured only to a bass line and a snare drum beat. but really what did any of it mean?
when there's a higher philosophy in reflection and defeat. 50
000 voices rising every time he'd sing
and every word he ever wrote reflecting back to him. still believing that old lie
the one that your own face betrays
rock stars don't ever die
they only fade away. reflecting now on my own past
inside this prison i've made of myself. i'm feeling a little better today
although the bathroom mirror is telling me something else. these lines of stress
the unhealthy pallor of a troubled ghost. where did i put my spectacle case?
i'm half blind and as deaf as any post. 50
000 hands are raised to a man that's just like you and me. we create the gods we can and gift them immortality. still believing that old lie
the one that your own face betrays
rock stars don't ever die