“You’ve gotta grab it by the scruff of the neck and give it a right good kickin’!”
“Fuck off! Prick!”
Its like a self-help book in here sometimes. My head , that is. Constantly battling with the “sickness” for overall control. Truthfully, I wish they would both fuck off and leave me in peace to think about pretty girls, guitars and art and stuff. Did I mention pretty girls?
“You’re one simple fuck. You know that?”
Of course. I’m not complicated. If all the drinking and drugs and partying has taught me anything, it is that there is never enough drinking and drugs and partying. I mean, just look at the world. This ain’t the 50’s. There is nothing left to aspire to. No need to plan for the future. There is no future. We broke the world years before we could ever admit it. Stripped it of everything and left it to decay and die under our feet whilst we chased money, fame and control over others.
As usual, Paul Weller nailed it years ago.
I believe in life – and I believe in love
But the world in which I live in – keeps trying to prove me wrong.