Written in flames upon flowing wine
There layeth a name writ in travesty
In a drama of such telling significance
Consumed by life’s sweet consequence
And Times eternally chiming paradox
Of perishing so young and so beautifully
Leaving nothing beyond each memory
Shrouded in the dust of fading history
Before emerging into present memory
Caparisoned in the flowing vestments
That truth preserves for future posterity
As each season passes with the leaves
Rock and stone mythology turn to dust
Conscience reveals that the one remains
Playing in the band which never fades
While others fade away into obscurity
It re-emerges to confront the future
Satisfaction doesn’t flourish on trees
And dying is the short fall to get free
From the repertoire of life’s destruction
Deals are struck stone down dead
Bread is money and time is history
Each flows and ebbs so differently
Six strings recording every mystery
Reincarnation’s a repetitive business
Transcribing every soul’s ascension
Through the darkness to eternal Deity
Where death becomes an act of beauty
Like scripture writing its own tragedy
Performed in the theatre of obscurity
Though some are born to die forever
Fame’s the endgame for all eternity
For all those sacrificed so beautifully
Bringing the gift of fire to humanity
As did the poets from another century
And other souls of a shared nativity
Born to struggle for the breath of liberty
Dragged from the cradle of obscurity
And propelled screaming into notoriety
By chance or effortless contrivance
Worlds gasped as they made an entrance
Caparisoned like hells electric princes
Promising everything except salvation
True nobility always honours promises
And this royal court was no exception
Street dancing was the new revolution
The architecture of all future premises
Constructed by the stones of rejection
Adorning the skyline of creation
Now dominates the line of convention
As worlds changed beyond imagination
In the caravanserai of destructiveness
Ringing around the three ring circus
Some souls surrender to the quietus
Falling down in the rising golden dust
As the troupe moves on so inevitably
Grateful to have known the presence
Of the prince of beautiful musicality
That raised an age into a renaissance
Changing time so sweetly magically
Some just wanted to play the blues.