Swagazine #1

St. JD  by Murray Headroom
Saint James Dean came down from the mountain,
His hands and feet were bleeding like water from a fountain;
The scars upon his soles and fists
Remind us that the love he missed
Was blinded in the headlights of our haste.

Saint James Dean died for my sins,
I sometimes feel like I killed him;
Saint James Dean died before I was born,
And that's why I couldn't warn
Him; he had to die.

Saint James Dean came down from the fence,
The way he cried, the way that I'd, it made me wince,
He sang for the valkyrie to carry him home,
But instead his body was buried alone;
Still, his brothers, in his shadow, continue to roam.

Saint James Dean came out for the western role,
In his heart we could see a martyr's hole;
He had the marks upon him, he was immolated,
He couldn't stand to live inside the world that he created;
Saint James Dean went up to see the stars,
He bought the farm, he keeps us warm, we bear his scars,
Saint James Dean died for my sins,
I sometimes wish I could thank him.

"Hey, Man, can I borrow your jacket?"


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