i'm burning in this pit i dug myself in an hour ago and up around the corner lies that b______ pub's front door and in my many changing moods and on similar days i've cursed and spat mercilessly at the foot of her firkin grace chaos comes inevitably, like a monarch dressed in rags grinning like a maniac and splashing cider in my face

i'm going back to san francisco to be finally at ease as i've reached the heralded last rung and become a part-time London Drunk

the Bristol Boys are lunatics but madness has its virtue they all smash their pints and feign legless fights because its what they're f___ing used to one autumn night in Birmingham after the band had played we piled into that filthy van and got out of that place by half a mile or half a minute i was a sunken, bloated slag i puked up on the floorboards, my f___ing jacket and pant-leg (Koski)

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