Candle in the wind?
You would have called that a shit song?
You turned your back on jazz to make the hit
that’s where it all went wrong.

You were a brilliant force
caught up in a tragic course
at every turn trapped
by your fatal burning source.

And now it’s the dead poet’s fame parade
that lame narcissism game of charades
that hooks the young into early graves
into the happy valley of shade.

The sharks in the oil industry of music
sharpened their teeth on you.
And hungry audiences had their fill and ate you up until they were sick.
The journalists went in for the kill.

The world should learn to
leave extraordinary talent alone
let it be nurtured gently, home-grown
to find its own natural way home.

Amy, you were a beautiful creature
of poetry and deep song
and though you did not live long
you took our hearts by storm and took the world on.

Still tides!

Spring tide
brings highs and lows
by the gravity of the moon
acting on my desire.
Neap tide comes
levels the flows
brings the mellows of the moon and the sun.

I have cried and cried
in the spring tide
in the neap tide
you were the moon and the sun…

and you are gone…
ain’t no…
a life’s love reflected in a sad glow
I am so tired of the tide’s ebb and flow.

Spring tide, neap tide
the never-ending ride
I want to get off
I have had enough of the interrupted flow.

I want to lie at peace
in the low high
of neap tide.
I want the drama of the endless rocking water cradle
to cease.

Tides be still
Wash me in love’s quietness to make me whole
by the moon and the sun’s gravity
so I can grow old.

Spring tide
Neap tide
Tides be still
Tides be still
Tides be still!