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You didn’t have to die, Philip Seymour
Before even the night drew closer,
You walked into your sleep, deeper
You woke up, in a wormhole, the point of no return,
An alien place, you know now, it is no more Greenwich Village.
Friends are still waiting, saddened faced,
Bewildered, we are heart broken,
Hoping for a miracle to happen.
That Master unlocks the door,
With a creepy smile and gusto, Lancaster Dodd pops in.
I feel to open my mouth, cry my lungs out loud
Does it bother you anymore? I guess not
You didn’t have to die; it’s too early, Philip Seymour.
Regardless, have fun there, wherever, in a boogie night,
Can you do that without us, Mr. Truman Capote? I doubt that, I might.
