This song is dedicated to Frank Zappa, and River Phoenix, Fred Gwynne who played Herman Munster, Dixie Lee Ray, Thomas P, Tip O’Neil, and you, dumb ass, who just threw water on me.
What are they tuning, a harp? I thought we were a big rich rock band. We should have a whole bunch of extra guitars.
Hi, my name is Kurt Cobain, I’m homosexual, I’m a pagan, I’m a drug abuser, and I like to fuck pot-bellied pigs!
Birds… scream at the top of their lungs in horrified hellish rage every morning at daybreak to warn us all of the truth. They know the truth. Screaming bloody murder all over the world in our ears, but sadly we don’t speak bird.
I mean it seems like there are only two options for songwriters personalities: either they’re sad, tragic visionaries like Morrissey or Michael Stipe or Robert Smith or, there’s the goofy, nutty white boy, “Hey lets party and forget everything” people like Van Halen or all that other heavy metal crap.