Kurt Cobain lives in Iowa and he spends his days smoking juxtaposed cigarettes – sweet on the one hand, disarming on the other
A mid-evening long-distance call collect put through to his brother
The one who pays all of his bills
No-one need know nothing
Chinese whispers too mind-boggling altogether to ever go the distance
Toes in the bath come ten in the p.m., a fallen rockstars session equivalent
Hellbent on nothing but catching A Home Away From Home on the clapped out mute buttoned telly
When, oh when will the postman ever gather his bearings, put two and two together – surely the name Kay Cobain on the underside of the envelope really should explain something

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