And then there was something…something on the radio.  It was in the air, on the
 air.  Something for everyone.  No segregation.  A revelation:  Even the kid
 who had nothing else could have some of this.  It couldn’t be taken away.  It
 stayed in your head all day.  This AM radio blitz.  Transistors, transceivers,
 translators and their believers.  And one who lived it, and loved it, and made
 it his own:  Joey Ramone.

He worked for Rock n Roll.  He had soul.  Like James Brown, he knew how to get
 down.  For him, those AM translators got thru.  He tuned in the frequency,
 frequently.  Brain waves absorbed, mixed and grew.  Feedback projects it.  His
 head collects it and gives it back to me and you.  He wants the airwaves,
 baby.  Yeah, Yeah.    He flew.  He wasn’t walled in by Phil Spector’s wall of
 sound.  He’s taller than anyone’s wall.  A giant among men.  Close to the
 ceiling.  I see he finally broke thru.  But this Goliath wasn’t slew.  Joey
 Ramone knew.

3 chords.  Words of few.  Poetry by numbers:  1 2 3 4.  Cretins hop forever
 more.  There will always be his songs.  Those can’t be taken away.  They stay
 in your head all day.  Everyone can feel he belongs.  Joey Ramone, you live on