nappy heads hard as the rock you sling shot
   through our ears but/ we didn't hear/ so you left
    stratocaster in hand to a strange gray land of
 cockney royalty and . . . L.S.D. soon to be a legend
    you had no friends just parasites flyin' high
                 as kites/
   pluckin'/ suckin'/ duckin' fame comin' off as a
            lame . . . motherfucka . . .

     as we torched our altered states hatin' you
      for kissin' frosty's behind we was . . .
  ray charles blind to where you was comin' from
    never checked out third stone from the sun or
       machine gun 'til you was dead . . .
    took one look at your white boy styled head
    of hair knew you was nowhere didn't care
     you were a part of us resented the fuss

  honkies made over you some nigger from seattle
      who couldn't even play and today/
    twenty years later . . . prince's hair is even
     straighter than yours and we act like the
   doors were so slick/ yet . . . they've all stolen
   your licks your clothes your wild shows prove
      you can teach new dogs old tricks

   but you paid your dues playin' blues on the
     chittlin' circuit takin' shit cuz you . . .
    wanted to jam told to scram by threatened
   veterans who saw those liquid brown fingers
    on your magic left hand command that strat
    to speak at will cry/ moan/ shriek/ shrill
          you was . . . bad/
      miles knew . . . little richard did too
     but most of us had no clue it was like . . .
     fallin' asleep watchin' the late show and
    even black radio wouldn't bring your noise
     refused to excuse you while you kissed/
    the sky said it was your tie-dyed hair fryed
   wind cried mary thought you was a fairy but/
        you was just shy . . .

    all the while worryin' what we thought you
sought our support yet few of us bought your music . . .
    failed to help you through those wild times
   hard as the symbol you'd now become not drum
     but phallic a quick prick fix to a dyin'
   industry dominated by young white boys who
       stole old black men's songs . . .
    couldn't play couldn't sing and along the
       watchtower came the wild thing/
       abused/ confused/ destined to lose

      but you saw the light the first ray
    tried to break away from that acid rock
      back to bebop band of gypsies you'd
     set us free . . . and/ with a single song
      screamed to america how wrong/
            the war was . . .
       and the blue-black abstract givin'
     patriotic americans a heart attack manner
   in which you played the star spangled banner
            shook/ the world . . .

     while we concerned ourselves with the
    skin color of the girls you dated frustrated
     peabrains who failed to realize the train
     you took traveled at the speed of sound
        but we knew every verse of . . .
       hound dog by elvis shakin' his pelvis
      better than we knew your songs except
     purple haze a simple phrase barless cage
       from which . . . you'd never escape

    repeatedly raped by fakes and snakes taken
   advantage of you were merely lookin for love
  and when you needed us most we weren't there
    scared to claim you as our own now you're
    stone free-history jimi/ we done you wrong
     waited 'til you was long gone before we
    listened to the songs you played emotions
  displayed like depression/ pain and sorrow . . .
   but you pegged us all square when you said
     think i'd better wait 'til tomorrow/