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,