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I bought the paper yesterday
And I saw the obituary
And I read of how you died in pain
Well, I just couldn't understand it
If I could of changed that
Then Lord knows I'd do it now
But there is no going back
And what's done is done forever
But you were always chained
And shackled by the dirt
Of every small town institution
And every big town flirt
And I think of what you might have been
A man of such great promise
Oh but, you seem to forget the dream
And the more you saw you hated
But let's not talk of blame
For what is only natural
Like a moth going to a flame
You had a dangerous passion
But you were always chained
And shackled by the dirt
Of every small town institution
And every big town flirt
All the things that you might have been
But who am I to say? Still I wonder
If it's the cold earth you prefer to lay
If it's the cold earth, you prefer to stay