The year was 1991.... a young fledgling rock star from Seattle was in pain. A lot of pain. Rigorous touring was not to blame. Soon the young musician realized something was wrong. Very wrong. His wife, that he'd had memories of but never actually met was missing from his life. From that time period in general. Trapped in 2012, she awaits a way back. A way back to change the future... a future that turns into a place with no Kurt Cobain.

A murder plot that turns into the most famous suicide in history, this site is dedicated to the small story of the husband who left a billion clues for the wife who figured them out.

Now her goal is to avenge her husband's death by pinning the murderer's with their crime...

Meanwhile she pours herself into her journal, awaiting the day she is finally reunited with her husband in time.

Letters to Kurt...


Friday, June 21, 2013

updated the song check it out at the end zone now has title --

The ORIGINAL KURT COBAIN SPEAKS OUT --
 
ROCK-N-ROLL GLORY
 
She's overboard and self assured
oh no I know a dirty little word
what we are and what we were doesn't
keep us from bein' disturbed

the static erratic exertion
stems from my chromatic assertion
breeding from synthetic inertia
from a systematic need to not hurt ya

my spagetti confetti is ready
who we are is better than tom and petty
tom and jerry are surely scary
like a collectic effectic don't marry

na na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na na na na na

my name is in vain halleluja
I'll stick a pistol and missile right to ya
in stripes I can't gripe civil hoopla
I'm trite and you're right ditty-dooda
a synthetic gallactic exertion
is better than my collective assertion

na na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na na na na na

my corny story is so goddamn boring
when will I get my rock-n-roll glory
a zombie with no mommy is perfection
seven years to life's infection

na na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na na na na na

she's overboard and self-assured
oh no I know a dirty little word
who we are and what we were doesn't keep us
from bein' disturbed

my libido for ya is a real possession
I just hope I don't get an erection
a systematic galactic attack
like dodgin' bullets in desert iraq

who we are and what we were doesn't
keep us from bein' disturbed
just like an old black and white movie
will I ever get a hot little groupie
you be me and I'll be you
but I'd rather be watchin' scooby doo

my life is like a neverending story
will I ever have some rock-n-roll glory
it's a crock that I really don't rock
churning and burning straight around the clock

my spagetti confetti is burning
but I tell ya I'm surely still learning
a synthetic erratic attack
I got all these monkey's straight on my back

na na na na na na na na na na na
na na na na na na na na na na na

(break it down real soft dreamy guitar in same melody, Kurt's voice is soft, sung like a chant)

a mulatto, albino, mosquito
let's take the time to talk about my libido
she's so fine I'm so high it's illegal
a mulatto, albino, mosquito
thank good god for that spiraling libido

acunamatatta mulatta
I'll get mine thanks to persona
but all the antifreeze stings like
nirvana

a biscotti mulatti my hottie
we'd wine and dine in time; Liberace
a mulatto, albino, mosquito
thank good god for that primal libido
I'm gonna ride ya like Evel Knievel

acunamatatta mulatta
your spagetti's best with avocada

acunamatatta mulatta
thank good godda mattata
 
a prolactic symphatic decision
bears an erratic collaboric collision
an authentic rutentic derisen
resides in my synthetic unison
 
oh my god she makes me so horny
I'll give her a little of my rock-n-roll glory
little ceasar's sure does please her
I swear to god I'll never leave ya
a rock star with a flashy little guitar
is on par to a propylactic surcharge 
when will you pay me when I'm workin' daily
this time I'm on fines to mother fuckin' save me
 
a synthetic gallactic attack
I'm sick of breakin' my mother fuckin' back
when will my spagetti be ready
I'll tell ya when then throw some confetti
 
my corny story is so goddamn boring
 
when will i get my fuckin' rock-n-roll glory
 
give me my fuckin' rock-n-roll glory
 
when will i have my rock-n-roll glory
 
gimme gimme my rock-n-roll glory
 
i really want my rock-n-roll glory
 
give me my fuckin' rock-n-roll glory (x10)
 


screech of guitar, explosion




(low snare drum cadence fade out)

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