What Frankie felt on the hood of that car was what I foresaw, what I wanted him to convey, that death awaited, that the singer needed to mend his ways, slow down, stop the drinking and the medication. Do you think me meddlesome? Why? I have told you I love my disciples. I have told you my saddest visits are the ones that come too early. I have told you I can see all futures. Is it beyond me to share this power now and then? Should I always do nothing and let the music die?
