Die letzten 100 Tage

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From the bottom of my soul

Music from the past, music from my past. I still re­mem­ber when I bought my first Bir­th­day Party re­cord. It was their un­be­lie­va­ble se­cond long-player Junkyard. For weeks ist was in end­less du­ra­ti­on on my turn­ta­ble. Again and again and again... I was young, ta­king drugs. I fly high and feel im­mor­tal. Every day was a fan­ta­stic gift of life. Even the dark days. I fell in and out of love and at the end of the dar­ker days there were the songs of Row­land S. Ho­ward. I don't re­mem­ber how many tears I cried lis­te­ning to Se­ver­al Sins, co-writ­ten by Row­land S. Ho­wards youn­ger bro­t­her Harry.

Later I lost my­self in al­co­ho­lism. My soul died away and my wild bum­ping heart tur­ned into stone. All my fee­lings di­s­a­pea­red. But so­me­ti­mes I can re­mem­ber how it felt when I was young. When life was a dark and gloo­my ad­ven­ture full of warmth and mi­racles.

Too many he­arts I broke on my way, too many peo­ple I re­jec­ted in all the years - it's time to die.