Dave and Krist, his brothers-in-arms

If attacked from the back, they prevented him harm

Dodging the media and all other vultures

They sprang from Seattle, expanding across cultures

His pleading and screaming, coming forth from the speakers

Reminds us we share troubles, which makes problems weaker

Together we crowded, to listen to noise

Through the messages made, by the sound of his voice

He then courted Courtney, and love followed suit

They seemed better together, but the point is moot

They had a child, and all looked well

Little did we know, he was living in hell

Nirvana grew so violently fast,

Somehow we knew, it couldnt last

Unable to manage, his rock-status quo

Kurt became crippled, and surrounded by foes

His foundation of fans, claimed he sold out

Once again, he had to do without

Lost in a sea of nameless faces

Resorting to reclusion, in out-of-the-way places

Like so many others, he ached for Love,

Replacing the pain, with toxins and drugs

But no matter the poison, it wasnt enough

His heart was weathered, and pinned to his cuff

Until it all finally, came to a head,

We heard in the news, with a headline that read:

A smoldering shotgun, and a can of Barqs

An empty box of Havana cigars

And to one side, a discarded syringe

Shot into his veins; one final binge

A powerful voice cut brutally short,

his spirit replaced by a lonely corpse

We listened to Kurt, and it numbed all the hurt

He screamed for a dream and fought with his words

But the one we love most, also hurt us the deepest

The flame that burns brightest, is also the briefest

He found a way from the fans, that tear like piranhas

His final gift is his songs, an idea called: Nirvana