You were the blue-haired idiot savant that I wanted to sweep me off my feet.
However you left me trying to figure out who I was, with a shaved head and blue heart.
You've made me feel lost yet helped me find myself.
I don't understand your role in my life, but I'll never erase you from the narrative.

they say that alcohol releases another side of you
to say the things you wouldn't say sober
to feel more or feel nothing
to bold while faded
it's intoxicating

perhaps that's why I am drawn to you
your presence challenges me
challenges me to be bold and be me
the thrill is intoxicating
but you're gentle arms invite me
like the warm feeling the liquor gives me
but then you turn cold and sour
I'm left confused and feeling hungover

thirty years
since Mark gunned you down
thirty years, passed
like a long sleepless night
that ends with taunting morning light
no brilliant sunrise grandly pronouncing
a glorious new dawn of man
although that would have been your plan
with your entreaties to give peace a chance
and imagine, imagine, imagine

now I kneel in this rain gray park
like a reject from some holy ark
a pilgrim in doleful disappointed pose
after seeing what your earthly brothers chose
was not to imagine a world of peace and love
but to wear reality like a cast iron glove
making mockery of your martyred chants
proceeding like a billion scurrying ants
deaf to your childlike pleas

across the soaked soil where your ashes lay
yesterday and today…and tomorrow
I feel the soggy sorrow
that you would have felt
if you could still see
all the rage of humanity