|
| |
Buddy
Hopin' and flyin' high
Still somethin' was amiss,
Just you know why ...
It had to end like this
Not fade away a shining star
With three million records sold,
Yet, silent fell his guitar ...
And, glasses rest infold
A sound never to be heard
Soon after that final show,
Boy, give us a clue, a word
Maybe one day we'll know
What happened that dark night
Over a quiet field of corn,
Lost in a flurry of white ...
Then found early the next morn
Ever altered by what he gave
Things change and time flies,
Rock n' roll, rant and rave
And still the music never dies.
Copyright ©
Kelly Deschler
|
|