all he wanted was some peace in bed
and to come together in his hairy head
a working class hero with a world to save
then a madmans gun laid him in his grave
he was never in it for his health
nor for silver, gold or wealth
he was just playing in the band
until he left us for wonderland
They were burning their candles in both ends
and the candle was shining bright
lightning the path for foes and friends
with the double candlelight
the poet sang for the LA-girls
they joined his world of furs and pearls
in his big sleep he found a door
and then we didn't see him anymore
the lefthanded wizard made guitars weep
he flew mountains high and valleys deep
with his purple haze and his songs to sing
he flew way too high with his little wing
with her southern comfort, ball and chain
all her kozmic blues couldn't ease her pain
so in a hotel room one lonesome day
she shot her last shot and went away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem