Jim Carroll: I'll miss him. He died.

Jimmy started playing ball when he was a kid,
Started writing too, told us everything he did,
Catholic boy big star, in the paint and with a pen,
Poetry in motion, and looking for a fix, fix,
Poetry in motion, and looking for a fix, fix

Jump shot, junk shot, he was a boy genius
But, damn, the kid needed something intravenous,
Shoot some hoops, write some books,
Hustle on Times Square for that damn fix, fix
Hustle on Times Square for that damn fix, fix

Traded NYC for the DTs, cleaned out his brain
On the West Coast, wrote some more verse
Tried to sell some books, tried to shake that curse
Got on the stage, turned poems into punk, punk
Got on the stage, turned poems into punk, punk

Basketball Diaries, the Jim Carroll Band
Took the cards he got dealt, played out his hand
He was a punk poet -- banging heads, writing verse
That's how he lived; that's how he died, died,
That's how he lived; that's how he died, died