John Lennon in memoriam

O that his far too dreamy soul won’t run.
It is a pity thing that Smith met Wesson.
Will no one ever learn the fatal lesson?
Must someone always kill the glowing sun?
During the season of the savage Hun,
The border is obscured between the treason
And the affection of lunatic reason.
A fan should never ever carry gun.
But nobody denies that there is power
Consistently recorded in the air.
The power of the psychedelic flower,
So dark and strong and incessantly fair.
Assassinating traitors do their share
But cannot kill the pearls in heaven’s hair.