David Dondero Lone Rose
You could share your skeletons with casual observers
and you could be best friends
with the vagrants and the searchers,
your tender heart was heavy, it was weighing on your
soul,
the two battled out inside you: neither one could have
control.
I remember when your rabbit died you put it in the
freezer,
made an ornamental coffin
with the shoebox from your sneakers,
went down to help the people of the flood in New
Orleans,
you was living, you were giving,
you were the first one on the scene.
Lone Rose, used to call me the High Plains Drifter,
Lone Rose, I'll take a lonely ride,
Lone Rose, couldn't help but crying, heard about you
dying,
least I know it wasn't suicide,
'cause I know you didn't want to die.
Although you fell out of a window just about a year
ago,
some say it was intentional but no one really knows,
I'm waiting on the subway, a rat runs across my shoe,
there's a woman on the platform over, looks almost like
you.
Lone Rose, used to call me the Rollin' Rambler,
Lone Rose, I'll take the lonely ride,
Lone Rose, couldn't help but crying, heard about you
dying,
least I know it wasn't suicide:
I know you kinda didn't want to die.
You left behind a couple letters you never sent to me:
I kept switching my address so you just let it be.
Don't need to ask the coroner to find out what had
happened,
was the stupid deadly mixture of cocaine and heroin.
Lone Rose, used to call me the High Plains Drifter,
Lone Rose, I'll take the lonely ride,
Lone Rose, couldn't help the crying, heard about you
dying,
least I know it wasn't suicide,
'cause I know you didn't want to die.
Saw you passing by the Edwardian hotel,
in a soaking wet pink parka, you still looked hot as
hell,
didn't care about the rain, you said:
"Let it soak me to my bones!"
As it started once again you went to splash it off
alone
