But everytime I think of their deaths - drug and alcohol fueled to the last - I lament not the loss of human life (cold as that sounds, it's true - they brought it upon themselves) but the unbearable waste of all that talent. All that power and energy and genius - gone. Snuffed out. Because they couldn't stay away from the needle, or the bottle, or whatever the eventual implement of their death may have been (to be fair, it was a shotgun in Cobain's case).
Honestly, ya morons. Join a 12-step programme. Pain and suffering and addiction may be good for your art, but your untimely death isn't.