2003-10-03 - 5:35 p.m.

To Frances Bean Cobain

11/28/00

your father was a madman,

to some he was a king,

your mother a useless wench,

a whore who couldn't sing.

you a child of tasteless fools,

a child of cowardly love,

a night of rage, a night of sex,

and they thought it was enough.

I'd take you in my home,

and mother you as I see fit,

take you from that useless hag,

and that life of pseudo-wit.

a coward you called father,

a vile mother they chose for you,

a life of endless insanity,

a life of pointless woo.

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