The Song That Never Lived (The Man From Liverpool)

In an old apartment, inside a dusty room
Lays a sheet of paper with writing on it.
I touch it. No pulse, but it can be plainly read.
Sad that it's composer, the man from Liverpool,
Never lived to see this masterpiece through.
He was gunned down in the streets of the city
By a mad man unaware of his tomfoolery.

Now, the world never realized the true consequences
Of this act of hate and occurance of fate.
The world never did know of words from the man's pen,
But they were more than just simple lyrics.
They were more or less the words of God shining down
Upon him. In essence, this was talent on loan.
The song only made it part of the way,
But like many a baby, it never had a chance.

No, the world didn't get to hear the song that never lived,
Nor did they really get more than just a taste, or more like a tease,
Of the splendor and grandeur which would surely have touched 'em.
The man was a genius, misunderstood (as genius is often misunderstood),
But this song has a loud and clear message.
Love. The one thing which unites man and woman.
The one thing that can save this world.

And all because of one absent-minded soul, that was crushed.
And we wonder when the carnage will stop.
The more I read on the man from Liverpool's notes
The more I weep. Yes. A grown man weeping over beautiful music.
It's been 25 years...25 years long gone, so long, long gone.
Will the world ever know true peace? That I cannot be certain,
But one thing is a definite, and this is as much truth as that of The Gospel:
The man from Liverpool may physically be gone,
But his spirit shall perpetually fly.