an homage to the man who changed the world.

if he was strange, that’s because he was… not because his producers dressed him up. he had a voice, it was not beautifully musical, but like nina simone and chet baker before him, it was his own. that’s what made him beautiful. his lyrics were not about paparazzi’s or poker. it was about space and death… o.k. he did a few songs about cats and dogs, but hey, we all make mistakes sometimes. and the dog one wasn’t that bad. well… we will miss our boooy for sure. thank you for great times and most importantly for showing us all how to age and get old gracefully. you can’t dress up in ziggy stardust gear at 55 and jump around like a teenage rockstar like its the old days… you put a suite on and chilled out and took it like a real man. mick jagger could learn a few things there. if i was ever disappointed of bowie, it was after he got his teeth job and pulled a few facial skins, but im sure he had plenty of PR agents to blame for that. will miss you man. left a flower for you in front of your new york apt. and iman darling, may peace be upon you girl, he’s up there somewhere… in the stars now… probably next to monsieur jacques (romain georges) brel singing “my death”:

my death waits like an old roue’ so confident, i’ll go his way
whistle to him and the passing time

my death waits like a bible truth at the funeral of my youth
are we proud for that and the passing time?

my death waits like a witch at night as surely as our love is right
let’s not think about the passing time

but whatever lies behind the door there is nothing much to do
angel or devil, I don’t care for in front of that door there is you

my death waits like a beggar blind who sees the world through an unlit mind
throw him a dime for the passing time

my death waits there between your thighs your cool fingers will close my eyes
let’s think of that and the passing time

my death waits to allow my friends a few good times before it ends
so let’s think of that and the passing time

for whatever lies behind the door there is nothing much to do
angel or devil, i don’t care for in front of that door there is you

my death waits there among the leaves in magician’s mysterious sleeves
rabbits and dogs and the passing time

my death waits there among the flowers where the blackest shadows, blackest shadows cowers
let’s pick lilacs for the passing time

my death waits there in a double bed sails of oblivion and my head
so pull up your sheets against the passing time

but whatever lies behind the door there is nothing much to do
angel or devil, i don’t care for in front of that door there is, thank you… by dd