THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
As it turns out, I was Bowie and you were Iggy and not the other way around. I was Verlaine, you were Hell. Rotten, Lydon, it could be semantics, but I don't think it is.
You exist in all the made up places and all the places I've never been and I can't make up my mind, I can't think in any direction at all---