Child Star

Mountain eyes, peeping out of his headSipping tea composing in his bedA hundred hands working on a musical of oldDebussy and MendlessohnHandel and Dvorak of oldChild star protege of Mister GormezWho said you'd go farChild star, they do not see just what a precious gem you'd beSad to see them watching you fade into invisibilityTwelve years old, your elvish fingers kiss your Beethoven hairThe awesome people stareThey're unaware of all the angel sounds they see and hearDebussy and MendlessohnHandel and Dvorak of oldChild star protege of Mister GormezWho said you'd go farChild star and when you died at just thirteen they wept and wrung their hairSad to see them mourning you when you are thereWithin the flowers and the trees