Dead Junkies

I think of all the junkies dead
and seak to find a common thread
of Martin ripped from the Carribean at nine
to concrete Leeds, mud, no sunshine
of Turps who wove an Archadian noose
found dead, st georges crypt from drug abuse
of Bev I never knew so well
who shone so bright to burn off hell
of Wid, so young, so vibrant, why?
who chose to let his blood run dry
Romance is the common thread
that links all of these junkies dead
and Richard, my soulmate whos love destroyed
through misled lust a bitch who toyed
and passion killed the boy so pure
a child adrift to her alure
and still my loved ones dream of futures
nostalgic, all, for past