Syd Barrett, 1946-2006
He had a pretty brief career although his legacy was substantial. No one really knew the nature of his mental illness (I've heard schizophrenia and even Asberger's). His mates loved him and took care of him for the rest of his life, faithfully sending the royalty checks.
And maybe he found some peace at the end, maybe not.
[In later years,] he reverted to his real name, Roger Barrett, and spent much of the rest of his life living quietly in his hometown of Cambridge, England. Moving into his mother's suburban house, he passed the time painting and tending the garden...He was a familiar figure to neighbors, often seen cycling or walking to the corner store...
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
And you are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
