Death carried his guitar like a shadow
They danced to the rotting bones
To the ringing awful bells
The stage was bright and black
Skelton angel flys for morning
Garden house and shot gun
Heroin and a suicide note
Now the world feels like ice
I guess some people have a hard time
Seattle rain cries like blue roses
Hey Kurt we really miss you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem