Billy Dee was seventeen when he turned twentyone Fooling with some foolish things he couldve left alone But he had to try to satisfy a thirst he couldnt name Driven toward the darkness by the devils in his veins All around the honkytonks, searching for a sign Gettin by on gettin high on women, words and wine Some folks called him crazy, Lord, and others called him free But we just called us lucky for the love of Billy Dee Busy goin his own way and speakin his own words Facin and forgettin every warnin that he heard Makin friends and takin any crazy chance he could Gettin busted for the bad times and believin in the good Billy took a beatin from a world he meant no harm The score was written in the scars upon his arm Some felt he was payin for the life he tried to lead But all we felt was sorry for our good friend Billy Dee It may be his soul was bigger than a bodys ought to be Singin songs and bringin laughter to the likes of you and me Cause the world he saw was sadder than the one he hoped to find But it wasnt near as lonesome as the one he left behind Yesterday they found him on the floor of his hotel Reachin toward the needle, Lord, that drove him down to hell Some folks called it suicide, others blame the speed But we just called it crucified when Billy Dee O.D.dYou might also like
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