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And I don't care what it takes my friend
I will never go hungry, go hungry again
Oh, and I don't care what I have to pretend
I will never go hungry, go hungry again
And the phoenix she rises, she is sure to descend
She will never go hungry, go hungry again
And you're looking to me more and more like a godsend
We will never go hungry, go hungry again
And we owe each other nothing, there's no one left here to offend
We will never go hungry, go hungry again

You want retreat, filthy and deep
A dead moon, a drunken sleep
Baby, there is a room full of death and whores and truth
And I am waiting in that room
And I am waiting in there for you
It's all hoarse, it's all pain
It's all disease, man, it's all the same
My little Judas, my little twin
Where you start, that's where I begin

Do you remember when you were young, and you’d stare at someone on-stage and think ‘Oh my God—he looked right at me?’ I do, so I have this kind of rescue-fantasy thing. When I see kids in the audience I think, ‘Okay, that’s me, and it would be kind of cool if the person on-stage would come down and save me.’ I’m not going to be able to save every one of them, but I’ll do my best, because I genuinely like kids. If I didn’t have my lust for my art, I probably would have ended up working with them.

People like you fuck people like me
In order to avoid agony
People like you fuck people like me
In order to avoid suffering
People like you fuck people like me
Fuck people like you
Fuck people like me
Fuck people like you
Fuck people like me
Fuck people like you

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Imagine this: You're peaking. You're in you youth. At the prime of your life. The last thing you want to be is a symbol of heroin use. You've finally met somebody of the opposite gender who you can write with. That's never happened before in your life. The only other person you could ever write with wasn't as good a writer as you, and this person's a better writer than you. And you're in love, you have a best friend, you have a soul-fucking-mate, and you can't even believe it's happening in your lifetime. And as a bonus he's beautiful. And he's rich. And he's a hot rock star to boot. And he's the best fuck that ever walked. And he wants to have babies, and what you want is babies. You've wanted to have babies forever. And he understands everything you say. And he completes your sentences. And he's lazy, but is spiritual, and he's not embarrassed about praying, he's not embarrassed about God, Jesus, none of it. He fucking thinks it's all really cool. He wants to fucking learn the path. He wants to be enlightened. Everything. And there's even some room for you to fix him, which you like, 'cause you're a fixer-upper. He's perfect in almost every fucking way. The only fucking happiness that I ever had. And then it all gets taken away.

Releasing those songs into the void, and not having the void answer back, led all of us to splinter off and attempt to make our mark by deconstructing. Instead of going forward with my tunesmithing, I went back to the beginning. And that’s what Pretty on the Inside was about. I said, ‘I’m not going to follow any of the songwriting values that I’ve been learning for a good seven years. Instead, I’m going to set up on my own land and make my own stake, and see where it goes.’ And the next place that takes me is Seattle, where what was happening was so heavy, and so intense.

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