Not nice . . . but good!
Low-hung bass, was it even plugged in –
who needs talent with a crazy like that?
Punk, junkie, maybe killer – the debate
rages on, much like you in the early days,
before Nancy and junk took over. Anarchy
never sounded so tough, so fun; spit
and fire all rolled into one classic album –
that album is you whether you played that
bass or not. The most truthful statement
that ever fell out of those rotted teeth:
“I don’t remember if I killed her.”
Your own farewell party wasn’t pretty
or well attended – a fatal blast of heroin
given to you, with love, from mom;
not many can claim that, never mind