You need to be optimistic, darling, today you' ll find someone who' ll never make you sad, by never making you glad and who' ll only show up when you wanna fuck; or when you wanna go for a ride in a fancy car; or when you wanna say goodbye to someone. I need to be optimistic / maybe I'll find me a girl who wont fall into depression for the mere fact that when I sleep with her I' m still there when she wakes up / take up a part of the room / consume a part of the air / let alone staying alone really late at night / smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol and listening to crazy stuff like Cat Power, The Sound's ''From the Lions Mouth'', My Bloody Valentine, the stupendous debut by the fabulous Dream Syndicate ''The Days of Wine and Roses'' / Lord where are they now? Lord where have they gone? Or was it all in my mind? We need to be realistic / it wasnt ever much fun / you didnt have any feelings / lets not talk about love / yet I' m still fond of you with you cause I'm that kind of a guy / and you' re not that kind of a girl / no, you re not that kind of a girl / Lord where am I now? / Where have You left me now  / shine Your  light on me now / I'm in hell again oh Lord

There's this thing I told my self / dont you worry boy, it's just the feeling you get when you've had too much to drink / too early in the afternoon / being so weak / anyone passing by could just grab you by the arm and drag you along with them / wherever the fuck they're going / but where the fuck do they go? / whichever way the wind blows / there's this friend of mine who was kind enough to buy me beer / and I mean a lot! / he would sit there and listen to the story / over and over and over / of how I was left alone / scenario after scenario after scenario / then the man said ''Hey man, who the fuck's evere writing your script anyway?'' / is it mr Charles Baudelaire ? / Hell NO! / is it the kind and lonely mr Stephen Patrick Morrissey? / a long time ago / is it the cursed and blessed mr Greg Dulli of the infamous Afghan Whigs / oh hell, that's close! / but no / it's that girl / but where the fuck has she gone? / whichever way the wind blows / there's this woman inside this bar who I am staring at / she must be 55 or something / I've got my tequilla shots stashed in front of me / like a good boy / and I'm just wishing she could just come over and / take me by the hand / try to understand / the trouble I'm in / take me home and tack me in / but she'll just walk out the door / and where the fuck will she go? / whichever way the wind blows / there's this little life I've been living ever since; / there's no joy / nor peace / nor nothing at all / and my reign is going down  hard / and the rain falls hard as rocks / and when it doesnt / the sun shines / ruthless / and heartless / and accurate / and I cant sleep / nor eat / nor do nothing at all / and my heart weighs like fifty fucking tons / and I cant even finish this / so I'll just have to go / but where the fuck will I go? / whichever way the wind blows

Me and my drink are laying low until these awfull things we did are well forgotten. Dead and gone. Well out of the heads; of your community
Me and my drink are hanging well. We're letting everything go to hell. We dont keep our eyes fixed on the phone all the time. 
Me and my drink are doing fine.
Me and my drink are saying goodnight. We're really feeling very tired. We're wishing you all a fond fare well. 
Me and my drink are going to hell now.


I met my councillor in the University, registration, first year. I think I liked the ribbon in the; hair cause, a few weeks later, she was off to her hometown, I said:
''Is there anybody waiting for you out there ?'' and I think she said no cause then I said  '' Would you like someone to wait for you over here then ?'' and I hope  she said ''Yes''. Cause, then, I waited.
It lasted a few weeks and it was quite platonic, too. It wasnt until several years later that my councillor would introduce me to the notion of one night stand;
the  tactics of which I couldnt understand much then. I still cant understand them much now either.
Credentials. My councillor went on to lead a quite chaotic life involving divorced men, married men, thirteen year old daughters, good sex, bad sex,;
no drugs, some books, not enough alcohol I'm afraid. 
Not exactly a German car TV advertisement, if you know what I mean.
I mean not exactly a success story. But she's the only one I've got.
And she's my councillor.
Advice. My councillor says that it was me who fuked it up, probably. But then my councillor says that you were a half crazy bitch anyway and that  I should be glad you left me alone. My councillor says I should never call you on the phone no more; ( and, of course, I did call you on the phone ).
My councillor says I'm this big, strong, charming   man and that I should go out and have some fun no matter what.
Proposal. When this is over you can visit me in my room. We could have a few drinks. You can step in and take her place.
I could use your experience; ( oh the years in France! ), One hundred thousand one night stands
( one hundred thousand and one as the minutes go by). Enough books, not quite enough alcohol but enough drugs  to last me a life time.
And I could especially use some of your cynisism.
Come here, maybe we could still be friends. You could be my councillor.