Dubious Elegy

I remember Stan Demonsky with a flat, expressionless face
He could cut you up with those sarcastic comments he would make
Always seemed preoccupied by some annoying thought
that he had as he looked at you, but he never brought it up

The Last Resorts was his first band, the last The Kensingtones
(He was always in these bands that had these
self-defeating names)

The last I saw him was at his rundown place in Chinatown
A relic of Toronto's eighties Queen Street underground
Stan bashed out those chunky rock chords
as if he was a star. He jumped around like Peter Townsend.
The resemblance ended there

Stan Demonsky had a face that pain resided in
It was a quiet tenant, but it paid its rent in skin

Stan Demonsky's hands were always stained by printer's ink
He had a business on Atlantic-it seemed to pay the rent
When my friend David said he'd died of too much heroin
I thought that was a stupid way to die
But not, may be, for him
for him