Yellow roses in the graveyard
��where you have been laid down to sleep.
This day is getting oh so hard,
��and you have finally made me weep.

I started you on cocaine,
��then you went to harder stuff.
You said it hid you from your pain,
��but now I see you've had enough.

You spiked a nickel in your soul,
�as I watched and smoked my crack.
Then I loaded up another bowl,
��while you killed the monkey on your back.

You laid there in that empty place,
��with head pillowed on your own bile.
Your skull was showing through your face,
lips twisted in a ghostly smile.

I left you with the rats in there,
��first doing what I could for you.
Straightened your clothes and wiped your hair,
then held you for an hour or two.

Like a feather and so cold,
��as I held you there so close.
The next day all the papers told
��of one more Houston overdose.