Dead Singer

There’s an online rumour
that Elliott Smith is dead
& Elliott’s serving Elvis in
a five-to-four bar job – I’m

whistling my high chorus
[I’m wiping my blunt blade]
My pipe-cold water pours
to bathe his blood away/

Portland is tracks & paint
& Nick Drake isn’t dead/ I
turn up Elliott’s stereo [11
is now 10]/ A blade is my

first choice [sliced skin to
pay rent – not callin’ on an
artery] Elliott is now dead

So tell our online ‘papers –
God’s mistakes arent few
He was waitin’ on Costello
[in Largo – his front room]