I wrote the following lines as a farewell to Michael Jackson. They occurred to me as from some inner need and a feeling of sorrow for the end this offspring of pop had. So here is my "funeral speech" for Michael Jackson, who though immersed in wealth, died from a heart attack, like a common jerk.
In the States, drivers on the streets are horning wild.
Jackson, their boy named Michael, is not alive.
A King of mirrors, through which his sight
proved everything around him was a lie.
Swiftly with color and size he toyed
and everyone knew he was here to stay.
Black velvet his voice, just straight black.
A suicidal warrior who's never coming back.
In the States, drivers on the streets are horning wild.
Jackson, their boy named Michael, is not alive.
A King of mirrors, through which his sight
proved everything around him was a lie.
Swiftly with color and size he toyed
and everyone knew he was here to stay.
Black velvet his voice, just straight black.
A suicidal warrior who's never coming back.
writen by physiodifis
(translated by Xaris Xronis)
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