Nirvana, by Kurt Cobain

I'm giving up, is this my lonely grave?
At least it's not, another lonely stage
Conditioned care, depending on demand
Rationed by outrageous rabid fans

She's by my side, feel her hand in mine
Walking me through, this nightmarish life
She's understanding, when I wince in pain
She understands, why I hide away

Run away, from those without a heart
Keep on running, those critics of art
We'll find a place, skeptics learn to believe
And those once blind, will begin to see
Inside of me