Promises and lies

I dont know how many fucking times ive promised myself that: 'this is it', i dont know how many times and on how many peoples graves ive sworn that this is the last fucking hit. The only to explain is: complicated. World shook and shaken a bit. Day off day on, fuck there must be something fucked up wrong...
One fucking trap after the other in which to get ensnared, you see, get anxious, start paniking and then just shitscared. Then conciously you just jump in the first available one, not to give fate or the devil their fun. Rather throw the fucking spanner in your own machienary, stand back and wait for the result to be. See how this one turns out, what the fuck am i on about???
Actually to me it makes alotta sense, just penning the truth makes me fucking tense. Realising im the one fucking it up for me, just believe in destiny? Then this is a raw fucking hand i was dealt, really the arse end of the horse i smelt. But i suppose its what you do with the shit. I suppose you could eat it bit by bit. Or you could just fuck it, pull an ace outta my sleeve, take a while and see what the fuck i can achieve...


"Selling my soul would be a lot easier if I could just find it."

Nikki Sixx , The Heroin Diaries: A Year In The Life Of A Shattered Rock Star