Glinting faintly behind hurt and frightened black coal eyes I can see
A light so golden and pure found rarely but burns in this case strongly
These irises veiled by pain, but containing beauty are just a memory
A strong and important one of a deceased little greaser called Johnny
He wore a jeans jacket, jeans and a black t-shirt on his body
They covered bruises of which there were far too many
He didn't deserve his misfortune, not one bit, though he had plenty
Fate has been cruel to him, and hasn't acknowledged his beauty
Inside his mind brewed intelligent reflections constantly
His entire being radiated with compassion and sympathy
In his own damn home he wasn't shown any
Yet somehow he had enough to share; isn't that funny?
His passing was not in vain, not entirely
In falling he spared other lives selflessly
That's the way he's always been, so quiet and kindly
If anyone deserves to be remembered, it's he
Hailed as a hero's, his name has been in the paper, printed for eternity
Those who were close to him will never cease to remember him admiringly
His memory keeps his best friend Pony golden and dreamy
Johnny Cade is beautiful, in life, in death, he'll always be