We're preaching Riot!

hurrican years: gone?

-4 years: Sun and pink hairs. we had fun arguing at school.

-3 years: I couldn’t get up in the midday after gig. hang over. hang out. next gig is in 5 days.

-2 years: I was holding her letter with my shaking hands. Coming back to my boyfriend’s house to take another doze of cocaine.

-2 years 2 months: One-way ticket. Not eating then dying. Cutting viens and keep on rocking as hell. Madhouse - Im here for already three weeks.

-1 year 5 months: smoking hemp we recorded “I dont see you” and “Fuckin’ ok”

-1 year 3 months: her suicide doesn’t touch me at all. I have a new toy.

-1 year: Maboroshi noyouna kanojyo. Her love is killing me. Thats so nice to walk in the center of Moscow when its warm enough to wear sun glasses. There is only one drunk kiss. Very suddenly - for the performance.

-8 months: Pose-pose, you glitter! nothing will be as before. I try to make you think Im alive.

-5 months: I find you. Some morning in the station before the gig.

- 95 days: the beginning of the end. Everybody lies. I will never come to your funerals.

 Memories are like your luggage. Getting bigger and bigger with every sunray. Nobody need to carry it. Nobody need it at all. But still you cannot throught it away - thing become you. Shoulders are already tired and eyes are dry. When you are walking down the street one nice sunny spring day, wearing dark glasses, you can cry for… I stare the bodies in the streets with no faces. Little bit lost the sence of time. If you wanna die - smile more. And lie more, never forget about suicidale, murderous smile.

Then, 4 years ago I had only 3 songs of one band in my iPod. Still they are with me.


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