
in black leather
stand on a bleak hill
with a steady gaze
proud and defiant
as if facing down
grim Death himself.
Ah, yes, the cover
of the Ace of Spades
was like a mirror
for rebellious teenagers
of those long gone days.
Your music was fast
furious yet sublime:
the mighty Motörhead
in your glorious prime!
But now you are dead
no more than the dirt
on which you stood
having all drawn at last
that darkest of cards
as you knew you would.