He Stopped Song Writing Today

He said “I’ll song-write till I die.” They said “You’ll wise up in time.” But as the decades drifted by His mind was filled with rhyme. He kept his demos by the bed, Back to 1972, And the s--t the publishers said, He’d underline in blue. Willie Nelson’s picture on the wall. He went half crazy now and then; And his best friend, Alcohol, It helped him guide his pen. I went to see him just today. First time I’d seen him in years; He’d finally passed away From fifteen thousand beers. He stopped songwriting today. They placed him on the funeral pyre. And they threw his demos in, And the flames grew higher and higher. The publishers came by to see him one last time, Just the way I knew they would, They clapped their hands and clicked their heels— This time they’re through with him for good…