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Mick Jagger, R.I.P.
Where will you be, Sir Michael Jagger,
Deep in the earth, all dust and bones,
You with the ego and testosterone swagger,
Proud to be king of the Rolling Stones?
Where will you be when your songs are forgotten
And somebody else is a household name?
Your bones will decay and your flesh go rotten,
This is the end of your glory and fame.
You never could get no Satisfaction
With Honky-tonk Women or sweet Lady Jane,
You've gone to a place where you don't feel pleasure,
You don't even have the reassurance of pain.
I guess you would like your Mother's Little Helper,
Something to prove you do really count,
Time Waits For No Man, the party is over,
You Can't Always Get What You Want.
poem
by
John Thorkild Ellison
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