Billy Dee was seventeen when he turned twenty-one  fooling with some foolish things he could've left alone  but he had to try to satisfy a thirst he couldn't name  driven towards the darkness by the devil in his veins  all around the honky tonks, searching for a sign  gettin' by on gettin' high on women, words and wine  some folks called him crazy, Lord, and others called him free  but we just called us lucky for the love of Billy Dee    Busy goin' his own way and speakin' his own words  facin' and forgettin' every warnin' that he heard  makin' friends and takin' any crazy chance he could  gettin' busted for the bad times and believin' in the good  Billy took a beatin' from a world he meant no harm  the score was written in the scars up on his arm  some felt he was payin' for the life he tried to lead  but all we felt was sorry for our good friend Billy Dee    It may be his soul was bigger than a body's oughta be  singin' songs and bringin' laughter to the likes of you and me  cause the world he saw was sadder than the one he hoped to find  but it wasn't near as lonesome as the one he left behind  yesterday they found him on the floor of his hotel  reachin' towards the needle, Lord, that drove him down to hell  some folks called it suicide, others blame the speed  but we all called it crucified when Billy Dee O.D.'d