David
O’ David, my David: born in 1936
Aged to seventy-two, until that Bangkok hotel room
O’ David, big David – play me a song
I see them spider fingers, work the keys
Oh David, my David, where’s your sword?
That perfect katana with the woven-black grip

He was a man of the Hollywood hills
And he was buried in a bamboo casket
But don’t go be asking Gail or Marina or any of the others

Yeah, that’s David – born 1936
Aged to 72 (until that Bangkok Hotel room)
Oh David, my David, why’d you leave?
We know where you went
We know how you went