Why does music seem so cruel
To those it imposes its gift upon.
So many blossom and flourish
And then so suddenly are gone.
I don't mean the one hit wonders
With their transient sound
They have their moment of glory
But they are still around.
Does the strain of performing take
More than they are able to give,
Do they need forms of support
Just to carry on and live.
Do the stresses and strains of
Being a revered name
Add to the pressure of lives
Of international fame.
Is living in a glass bowl
Worth all the strife
Of losing the chance
Of having any private life.
So many of those names
In their way so distinguished
Have young lives snuffed out,
Their bright flames extinguished
I suppose in a way
They aren't really gone
Thanks to technology
In some ways they live on.
Is it in some way a gift they can
Be seen still strutting their stage
So that in some strange way
These young icons never age.
In memory they live on
At the height of their game
And we forget sometimes
They were burnt out by fame
Is it that we the fans at time
Expected just a bit too much
Or is music a cruel master
With a sometimes lethal touch.
