Good-bye, my friend, I'm not alone now--
Your voice, your message and your pain I take
Along with me into this world of fake
And phony manufacturers of fame--
Your heart was like an all-consuming flame
That raged with childhood's innocence and truth
In this mad world that rapes the minds of youth
So impressionable, so confused and lost--
You died, my friend, what was the real cost
Of trying to express your inner rage?
And so they have put you in a cage
Of what's "acceptable"--Oh the trappings of success!
Your every fart, your every word, your dress,
Your image, your appearance is all--
Yet, deep inside, we all are very small
And vulnerable to the ever-changing fate...
And so what if they'll make a buck
Off some new catchy trend--who gives a fuck?!
For in this business it is all the same,
For art these days is just another game
Of self-promotion, marketing and greed,
While those who strive for truth are left to bleed,
To go unrecognized until they die
When someone twists their message in new lies.

                                                        April 9, 1994
                                                     --Alexander Shaumyan