Speed freak beast,

rattling bass string sting,

roaring like a hawk in a maelstrom –

juggernaut, express train slam.  Iron fist as a heart.

Try to keep up and play as fast as I can.

Aces up the sleeve, bombers primed to hit,

bass drum times two with an orgasmatron kick.

“I don’t believe a word” against this icon of rock,

this angelic rebel,

this amplified shock.

He was the one to sing the blues,

with one arm-bandit smile.

Primed with several bottles of jack a day,

This leader of the road crew

with a Rickenbacker charm,

moustachioed hell raiser with tattooed arms.

You win some (with overkill),

but we have lost too much,

when the Lem finally

unplugged his voice – warts n’ all

and joined God’s rock band jam

of other renegade heroes in

heaven’s hall of fame.