Impossible to know what it was that might come next, a man with what many said to be no less than seven heads, could change all of the time, first thing when the dawn came, a cropper in some ways, although he appeared prim and proper, never any stopping what might occur on him rolling out of bed the following morning
One getting severed at a time
Is he schitzophrenic, it’s hard to know, many an alter-ego that seemed more than a little happy to go with whatever flow came his way, exciting stuff, left us wondering what was going to happen next
Dressed like normal, or simply storming into a room make-up clad, looking to impress, ’til the time finally came along for him to turn back into Ziggy Stardust
A lust for life like no other, knifing away at line following line of cocaine, he could blame the industry if he liked, but there was much more to him than that
Sitting across from us now, those slender and utterly feminine legs crossed, here he is, talking like a king
An enigma, perhaps, the most unusual out there, as per usual, one filled with choking despair
Or it all a mask, he simply in it for the ride of a lifetime, basking in the unquestionable glory held in store