Lennon, Hendrix, Marley, Joplin, Petty, Harrison, the list goes on and on.

Why can’t someone kill Post Malone?

Do you really want an answer?

No. I was writing poetry. You should know that.

You are my higher self after all.

Now I have to start again.

Lennon, Hendrix, Marley, Joplin, Petty, Harrison, the list goes on and on.

Why can’t someone kill Post Malone?

Why oh why do we have Mercury dead.

And what is it with failed musicians that finds them in country music?

B.B. King was great even though he never made it to the pearly gate.

Why doesn’t someone shoot kid rock?

And why is vanilla ice alive?

They got milli or was that vanilli?

One might think I take music too seriously but you know I don’t.

Too seriously, that would be me cutting my heart out of my chest just to bring back John and George.

I have thought about it and I know the spell.

I’m not stupid, crazy as can be, but I’m not stupid.

This has gotten weird.

I’m the Muse of death poetry.

How many have died for you to wake up every day?

Do you think about it?

People die every day.

Who remembers them?

No one.

And they don’t care, because death is the release to other worlds.

The body is just a shell for the soul.

Everyone should know.