Fighting demons
There used to be a place, a place where I felt always welcome, always safe, always at home no matter what, where I would hide from my demons when ever they came hunting me down; when the world seen to crumble at my touch, it was always there, always warm, comfortable, inviting, familiar; there was no judgment, no questioning, there was just great music, even better company and existential conversations until 4 o'clock in the morning, those where my favorites; this was the place where we could all let our walls come down, go thorough the motions and with the poison of choice try and wash away the black from our souls, it was to us the only remedy for this illness, together we would fight teeth and nail for our sanity, without having to say much of what was really ailing us, all at the tune of the best songs deemed appropriate at the ...