For Mick Farren
Prepared the ground for punk, if not exactly predicting it,
And forecast our current dystopian nightmare
From the vantage point of a writer of pulp fiction,
Dug beneath the surface of the absurdities around us
To find the patterns underneath
(Scratch a jaded punk anarchist and find a disillusioned hippie utopian),
Came to America to escape Thatcher and went home to get medical care,
And died with his boots on, in front of a rock 'n' roll band.
We should all do so well.
Rest easy in your Dorsington grave, for you rode with Lemmy.