Grunge Love
So the beat of the drum, like the beat of the heart
Answered the plea of the rhythm, the lead guitarist in leather
The days and the nights, they practiced in a garage
Neighbors, like critics, called them trash and much worse
But when the night came, which had kept them from sleeping
So much anticipation and

The unlikely chance they may draw a crowd
A few people might dance
And their music would not merely be endured but be good
Enough to get applause
And be loved

So they stood on the stage trembling, feeling drunk and unwelcome
Like foreigners washed up on some racist shore
And Billy, the bassist, didn't open his eyes once
Till that first song was finished and all waited expecting the worst
But they didn't hear any boos, surprisingly a few whistles and claps
Which inspired more confidence and

The unlikely chance they may draw bigger crowds
More people might dance
And their music would not merely be endured but be good
Enough to get applause
And be loved
Today you know the band's name, though I won't mention it here
They fill up arenas all over the world without even advertising
Followed by millions, no longer a garage band on grunge
Yes those days have passed, and their time has come to laugh
Still, on the back of the stage, the drummer strikes down with rage
A tear in his eye, the strobe strangely hides along with

The unlikely chance the crowd will confess
While learning to dance
To a rhythm that covers a deeper pulse
They are not there for music or art
Or simply to be accepted and entertained
But to be loved