He lost his way in Biloxi
He lost his way down on that shore
That was still choked with the debris
Of a storm from long before
He lost his way in the madhouse
Where he tended to the men
Whose young souls had been shattered
By a war that will have no end
He was a boy from the country
Full of bluster, full of beans
He grew up sheltered in that valley
From the world’s ungodly scenes
Then they threw him in the maelstrom
They threw him in the flood
They taught him death and anguish
They taught him grief and blood
He came back home and he started searching
For the life he’d left behind
For the boy so full of promise
And the music in his mind
But he got lost back in Biloxi
Got hooked on pills to ease the pain
He never could cut through that static
And hear those clear, pure notes again
Well, they named him for an angel
But he fell into the fire
Now let all his imperfections
Be burned away into something higher
I knew his heart, I knew his ego
I knew the chains that kept him bound
I knew the reach of his ambitions
And the fears in which they drowned
Well, I’m not here to make excuses
Say what you like, the dead don’t care
I’m just thinking about Biloxi…
And a boy who got lost down there
R.I.P. Jesse Michael Floyd