Miss you, love you, be mine, and never stop loving me. Her feet tap,
splash, dance, burning candle stick's decree. Shoes on
broken sidewalks never slowed her down, ahead, a lonely porch-light,
Kurt Cobain the only sound. And in her pocket's a lighter,
a stick of eyeliner, some cigarrettes, she's fearing
where her feet take her, the crunch of frozen glass a threat. And
when the chorus ends she's a few cross-roads away, the stop-lights
shine blueish-green, and someone's radio's on play. The
windows sell celebrities and promise you the stars, saying,
try to be yourself though you don't know who you are. The
taxis breeze through the current of sharp horns, saying, I've
got passengers, got things to say, got ideas to be borne.
And by the time the light turns red, she's crossed a sea
of puddles to where the broken sidewalk led. Back to a lonely
porch light she'd tried hard to avoid, a broken candle in
the window lit, it's flame was overjoyed. She drew a breath of
piercing air, her lungs began to sting, and climbed up ev'ry
crumbling stair and gave the bell a ring. Footsteps broke
through Kurt Cobain, a hand opened the door, to a little
girl out in the rain, drenched to frightened core. She
said, "Help me, save me, solve me, for I do not know the way, I've
lost my soul to gridlock and to bus delays." And he took her
hand within his own and answered to her plea, "Miss you, love
you, be mine, and never stop loving me."