I visited Jim Morrison's tomb
on a balmy Paris afternoon
at the immense necropolis of Pere Lachaise.
I recall a man playing "The End"
feeling a tear strolling down my brow.
There was graffiti in many a tongue
paying homage to a bright star
who faded from the sky so soon.
His bust had been stolen decades before,
an adonis of Rock n' Roll
but now it has been recovered
yet it is a powerful place even without it,
beautiful lyrics floating in my head
at twenty seven too young to be dead.