Rock and Roll Suicide
At last, he took flight
In the summer sunlight
From the roof of the Hilton Hotel.
No urge to rethink
A step back from the brink
Only prolonging his mental hell.
Looking at the sky
His mouth suddenly dry
Knowing he had no more to tell.
Tucked into his coat
A scrawled two-sentence note
A rock star’s laconic farewell.
No will to go on
Party when I’m gone
The last words of a middle-aged rebel.
Creative destruction’s
Final disruption
That drugs could no longer quell.
And so the deed was done
In three beats of a drum
The fourth his body-thump death knell.
Standing near the spot
Where he met his lot
Long gone but still casting a spell.
