Purple Rainman Prodigy.
Prince, you were a mystery.
Your private life it seems to me
has left us in the dark.
Doves are crying. People, too.
Paisley Park now grieves for you.
Too soon it seems your life was through.
And you died all alone.
An elevator was your tomb.
A claustrophobic sterile room
where fate would choose to seal your doom
became your final stage.
But were you going up or down?
Sweet Prince, could you see Jesus' crown
from where you stood as you were bound
for that unearthly place?
You were a giant, though quite short.
And when you have your day in court,
when God the Judge gives His report,
I'm praying He'll show grace.
Good night, Sweet Prince may angels sing
a melody that dulls the sting
that follows death when sorrows bring
a pain that haunts the heart.