It was the voice first, so clear & deep & lazy,
That turned my attention to you.
Your reputation, so unpredictable & crazy,
Could no-one understand things you’d do?
Arthur, how could a star be called Arthur?
You always looked as if you’d been let in on some cosmic joke.
Arthur, what do you do these days Arthur?
Do you gaze at the world through thick clouds of reefer smoke?
I got your records, so intriguing and confusing,
I couldn’t understand the things you say.
It didn’t matter, your voice could always move me
But what were you trying to convey?
Arthur, you were a mass of contradictions,
The sound of pain in your voice yet you couldn’t take yourself seriously.
Arthur, in spite of all the predictions,
I guess that you’re resigned to your fate like your own willow tree.
Whatever happened? On second thoughts, don’t tell me.
I wouldn’t want to untangle your mystery.
But will you ever commit yourself to statement, however ambiguously?
Arthur, you were an inspiration.
In my darkest hour your songs had meaning for me.
Arthur seeing you was a revelation,
You killed every myth that a legend could be!