Fifty years ago, give a few hours here or there, a small airplane made its way into a cold Iowan night. It was found the next morning, wrecked in a cornfield, the bodies of all four occupants: the pilot, three musicians, dead. A newspaper boy read about it as he made his rounds, years later, he wrote a wonderful, amazing song: American Pie (he has a nice little piece on CNN about it, and read Herb’s post of a singing taxi-driver, too).
Lyrics, after the jump: (more…)