Write the song of a death, death of a young man blue, who
Well he walked off the end of the earth, quite simply we say,
The song goes slowly, following his steps, even his stagger
Though the melody is one we all recall, fondly, even in a lost day.
Sing the song, the song of a death, a young man blue, who
Well he threw his life to the birds, circling black and hungry
He made them pay, he made them choke upon his liver and yet we
Sing, sing the melodius refrain, steady as a train and quite ugly.
Hear the song, the song of death, death itself plays the tune
Having made his way to our doorstep, while we laughed and played,
Merriment of all those days in the bright sun and oh my, the fun,
Still he came, slowly forth, dragging his chain and now we say – sing!
Bury the song, the song of time, a young man blue, who
When the music stopped, well he found he at last had fallen
And when he hit the ground, his wings crushed under such plight,
And now discovered, much, much too late that Icarus was right.