Highway 4 in a '64 Thunderbird

I was driving west to Berkeley,

In a silver Thunderbird,

Highway 4 was a country road,

I sang every radio song I heard.

The DJ suddenly interrupted,

 “Janice Joplin was found dead,

On the floor of her motel room”

That was all he knew or said.

The rest of the year was dismal,

Yet another idol overdosed…

We played records over and over

Honoring artists we missed the most.

One year later, on the PA at JFK,

I heard Me and Bobby McGee…

She was alive again at that moment

And my burden of grief, was eased.