Cocaine.

Midnight on a river of piss.

Cocaine.

Jealousy in the eyes of tattooed ink.

Cocaine.

I forgot I was fat and looked a woman in the eye.

Cocaine.

Girls use gentleness as an assault weapon.

Cocaine.

Love in vain, on couches, couches, couches.

Cocaine.

Arid soul worrying about the next line, the end of the line

and where to draw the fucking line.

Cocaine.

6am planned closures on the Central Line.

Cocaine.

Three hours in the corner reading between the lines.

Cocaine.

It's true what they say about parallel lines.

Cocaine.

You can't do one line and think you're a rock star mate.

Cocaine.

Do you know who I am?

Cocaine.

I've got gasoline in my synapses.

Cocaine.

I crave intimacy but I avoid it.

Cocaine.

I long for touch but it petrifies me.

Cocaine.

I want to be held but I won't let anyone hold me back.

Cocaine.

I need validation but people's opinions disgust me.

Cocaine.

I want to be loved but it's too much pressure.

Cocaine.

My disappointment disappoints others.

Cocaine.

It is better to be one step ahead of loss.

Cocaine.

Bite the hand that feeds you

Because that hand that feeds you can also strangle you.

Cocaine.

People always tire of me.

Cocaine.

I feel like a cunt.

Cocaine.

There is nothing you can accuse me of

That I didn't accuse myself of before 9am this morning.

Cocaine.

I'm probably gay.

Cocaine.

I'm probably carrying around cancer of the bowls.

Cocaine.

That Camden Town whore probably gave me AIDS.

Cocaine.

My dreams have worn away from petroleum.

Cocaine.

Loneliness becomes sclerosis.

Cocaine.

I want to see the bitch swallow.

Cocaine.

The life of the party is dead inside.

Cocaine.