It seems like only yesterday. Fencing boxing crashing breaking and burning anything in my way to hold onto love or to steal its ghost in the mask. The proverbial Rebel throwing the lug wrench off a cliff, I jumped into music writing singing & playing while my paintings kept me alive. Friends tolerated my insanity. An Odd Job or one of the Hellcats.
Now I know a girl in the 'hood, if she doesn't watch out she's gonna get diced or take out someone else. It's like someone took me off the shelf and dusted me off like an old encyclopedia, opened it up to the page on Diane Clones. Except she's not an artist or a musician. I think she's going to die of soul starvation.
What goes around comes around. I can only thank my lucky stars to be alive. They thought I was a goner too.