He told me that he saw himself on fire
I never understood the things he’d say
But never once did I call him a liar
When there’s no sense, what sense would that make?

He’d always come inside the Chevy freezing
He never seemed to know just what to wear
His T-shirt to his coat, a mere allusion
His blue skin could make a Martian stop and stare

He talked as grand as one could ever wager
High-minded as any man you’d ever find
And when he walked, he always walked un-faltered
as if he was someone you should get behind

I heard he died a week ago this evening
I heard he was high-minded ’till the end
With a book of poems in hand, he found his calling
he caught a bumper for someone he hardly called ‘friend’

He told me that he saw himself on fire
I never understood the things he’d say
But never once did I call him a liar
When there’s no sense, what sense would that make?
And after all, he set himself on fire
saving someone else for someone else’s mistake

The beautiful bastard