Jimbo's Final Gig.

Jimbo's Final Gig.

Jimbo's Final Gig.

 

©-1979-MFB III

I remember Jimbo,

his chrome ax glittering

in the heat of the spots,

throttling his head back at me,

as I twisted a Les Paul into tune.

He had this cheesy grin

buttering his face, as he shouted,

This is so unreal man!

Yeah, he was caught up

in the high of the moment.



I barely heard him over

the massing crowd,

just past two tons of curtain that hid us,

but I could feel what he meant,

cause that night was sharp,

like a razor scraped across

the blackboard of eternity.



He died two hours after the concert,

in a twisted,

no longer stainless steel ball,

of what used be his MG.

Half in, half out, as if he'd

suddenly changed his mind,

like I did when I pulled

a classic Buddy Holly,

by catching a ride home

with the drummer, telling Jimbo,

"I'm beat man, I'll see you at rehearsel."



They say his radio was still playing,

the battery wiring juiced


when he took out a tree broadside,

and the song blaring away was...


"I'm On The Highway to Hell" by AC/DC.

They also added that his face

was pulled back in a grimace

as if he was already there.

Sometimes I think I died

with him that night,

and the rest is just make believe,

some kinda hellish dream

until reality kicks in, l

eaving me warming stools and

chasing cold brews with

shots of Black Velvet.

 

 

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