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