It's Been Up To Me To Inspire

My Selective Memory Of What Drinking Was Like Told Me That Standing At The Bar In A Pub, On A Summer's Evening With A Long, Tall Glass Of Lager And Lime Was Heaven, And I Chose Not To Remember The Nights On Which I Had Sat With A Bottle Of Vodka, A Gram Of Coke And A Shotgun, Contemplating Suicide.

Music Became A Healer For Me.

Loose Ladies On The Road Will Drive You Crazy, Every No, Becomes A Maybe.

There's A Desire In Me To Express Something - To Match What I Hear In My Head.

I Don't Have Half The Nerves There That I Have Anywhere Else.