You are the untold story. You are the impassioned truth wanting to scream its existence, to be forever trapped by a strong hand clapped firmly over the mouth of my soul.
Here in this moment we are beautiful, nocturnal creatures and our thoughts and words are jewels guarded by the moon.
If I could go to Kabul and not die, I would go back to Afghanistan as soon as I could. And, that was the most interesting place that I’ve been to.
I’m most in my element on tour, with a gig that day, like today. I’m on the road where I am supposed to be. I will be where I’m supposed to be at nighttime, on stage, in front of people, doing my thing.
I’ve got a knife and I want to talk to you I’ve got a prayer and I want to carve it to you I’ve got no chance, that’s why I’m looking to you O Lord, ride with me.
My love is a thousand French poets puking black blood on your Cure CD collection.
While I disagree with our presence in Iraq and Afghanistan, I have nothing but respect and admiration for the men and women deployed in these places.
I could fall in love with a cruel desert that kills without passion, a canyon full of scorpions, one thousand blinding arctic storms, a century sealed in a cave, a river of molten salt flowing down my throat. But never with you.
You’ll never know that just sitting across a room full of people, I have transformed you into a goddess. A destroyer of despair.
I don’t want to go with the smooth skin and the calm brow. I hope I end up a blithering idiot cursing the sun – hallucinating, screaming, giving obscene and inane lectures on street corners and public parks.
I am very ambitious in a way, in that I’m not trying to be the richest guy or whatever. I just really like my work.
I cling to my memories of glorious desperation.
I am too far gone to be rehabilitated.
Horror jolts me when I look at one of you and see a pair of beautiful eyes that make me think your mind might contain a world that could hold me as the bolts shake loose and fly from my frame.
Somewhere, someone isn’t impressed by your looks. Not all men jump through the hoops of your fire. You’re unbelievably boring to more people than you’ll ever know.
Love is self deception. I am a living creature. Hate is only self love. I am a double feature.
All I can do is just do stuff while I am alive and hopefully that track record will speak for itself.
Help me to withstand your beauty as it stands out of reach. Give me the capacity to forget ever having felt your touch.
You can find me in the frozen mood section.
I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know.