This is from the summer 1994 Kyosaku, a publication by Mike Janssen.
_Alternative Girl_ by Mike Janssen:

Kurt Cobain is dead, so as his body a-molders,
Alternative Girl, can I cry on your shoulder?
I'll wipe salty tears with your flannel shirt
and hold onto your hand to ease unending hurt

I saw you at a show just the other night
and you were lookin' alternative all right
Whether dancin' around or just standing there
with your overalls and Docs and the dye in your hair

You looked so much like all of your friends
who try to be different by following trends
You were smoking your Camels and bobbing your head
I thought you were cool for making yourself dead

There's nothing like a girl who reeks of rank smoke
like the kind in my heart full of coals that you stoke
Later I saw you with some punk pals at Denny's
like a flower with earrings in a field of many

Acting like a rebel in the rebel crowd
driving 'round in your van with the radio loud
So come with me to a coffee house joint
We'll drink lots of coffee and say, "What's the point?"

We'll talk about Beats and wish we lived then 
so we could have been posers who got into Zen
We'll curse being labelled as "Generation X"
while we watch MTV and have lots of sex

We'll go to Lollapalooza and dress really punk
and get covered with mud and buy overpriced junk
and wear the t-shirt to school just to show that we went
and sneer at the teachers whom we often resent

'cause they lived in the sixties when the youth had a cause
whereas all we can protest are the bountiful flaws
of an upper-class life with our parents the squares
and the trouble with us is that nobody cares

We've got nothing to say and we think even less
which naturally causes us endless distress.
So then we'll start our own music 'zine
and write lots of reviews and be slightly obscene

with an old worn-out typewriter and a bottle of glue
and a friend at the copy show who's alternative, too
Then we'll pass it around in our circle of friends
who act sad and depressed and sit on their rear ends

as they bitch about life in the suburbs with Dad
and they couldn't get a car so now they're so sad
O the Angst! the despair and the unfounded woe!
O the things we won't do and the places we won't go!

It's ok to be lazy! it's ok to be glum!
'cause we'll live in a world full of cloves and of rum
So let's wear lots of black and buy numerous books
that we'll carry around to draw numerous looks 

from our peers at the clubs who buy Sartre and Camus
but can never quite read it 'cause they're always so blue
And we'll stay up all night and fall asleep on the floor
Alternative Girl, who could ever want more?