And flee the swarming wisdom of the streets.
The barns have stormed
The windows kept,
And only one of all the rest
To dance and save us
From the divine mockery of words,
Music inflames temperament.
Ooh great creator of being
Grant us one more hour,
To perform our art
And perfect our lives.
We need great golden copulations,
When the true kings murderers
Are allowed to roam free,
A thousand magicians arise in the land
Where are the feast we are promised?
Kennedy Conspiracy anyone? “What really happened?” 
 
 Jim also references this assassination in his song,  Not to touch the Earth : 
 Dead president’s corpse in the driver’s car The engine runs on glue and tar C'mon along, we’re not going very far To the East to meet the Czar
The Ghost Song