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, our commentary,
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,
wings
where
voices
unhealthy
troubled
tribute
while
those
these
telling
tabloids
sweeping
story
still
stadiums
songs
secured
rising
refute
reflection
defeat
ghost
calling
today
better
tweet
snare
could
comrades
bloodshot
stress
remember
believing
little
others
commentary
souls
although
wrote
fallen
holding
bathroom
hands
something
inside
already
amphetamine
another
create
lines
across
betrays
higher
immortality
taken
kites
feeling
lights
longer
really
pallor
mirror
every
anecdotes
myself
stars
spectacle
never
obituary
paper
imagine
reflecting
philosophy
played
serious
prison
replace
blind
raised
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