There once was a man who said he threw it all away
And if he could go back that he would have his day
Go on the road, play a thousand shows,
find his love then he'd lead her home

But the man was out of work and the bills weren't getting paid
And he wasn't eating well, and he wasn't getting laid
It's hard in the arts when you're on your own
And your jackets wearing thin, and you're chilled to the bone

He lived inside his head, in a poets masquerade
Not an important man, not a master of his trade
He knew how it felt to be all alone,
If only his name had been better known

Thought he'd take his life, by a gun or by a blade
Make it to the afterlife, with the likes of Kurt Cobain
so he took a hollow point, pulled the trigger with a groan
I hope peace finds him, wherever he may roam