The Lung And way out in Seattle Young Kurt Cobain Snuck out to the greenhouse Put a bullet in his brain Snakes in the grass beneath our feet Rain in the clouds above Some moments last forever And some flare out with love love love I remember clearly the day Kurt Cobain died. My father and brother's birthday is on April 3rd. My grandfather died on April 4th. I was the one listening to Nevermind while the others loved Michael Jackson, so you know, I was quiet a weirdo. I am still a weirdo, and for most of the time I'm proud of it. It requires a lot of determination to be it. You know you'll be alone sometimes, since you're not like them. But it's fine. It was fine when I was a teen, and it's still fine. Back in those days I got myself a guitar and, just like our mate Bruce says, I tried to make it talk. I did, eventually; I played in a punk rock band for some time. We were amazing; we sounded like shit, but we were amazing. I did punk because it's so easy to play even a dork like myself could do it. The early Green Day, being a teen in the nineties...Now you could think you were not made for these times, but believe me when I say we all have thought that same crap. I still clean up the dust from my guitar, turn on the amp and play from time to time. Write a song and play, it will make you feel better. But you gotta show it when you do it. For us mortals it requires a lifetime to play like J. Mascis. I wanted to sound like him. I tried and tried and tried. I still try. Maybe I can make a decent cover of 'The Lung' when I'm sixty four. I think I will. We'll be dignified and old. You're gonna enjoy this trip, you'll see. Sometimes it's a bad trip, sometimes you get screwed. But overall, it's a nice trip. It's cool. You'll see. Better than that, you'll tell me. Later. www.youtube.com/watch?v=sG3Wsgr4yco