She smashes her knuckles into winter As autumn's wind fades into black She is the saint of all the sinners, the one whose fallen through the cracks... (iViva la Gloria!)

Music to me is the air I breathe it's the blood that pumps through my veins that keeps me alive

No one's really happy anyway, it's not human.

I can't sleep very well at night. It takes me a while to get to sleep. I could just be nocturnal. I have my nighttime witching hour where I hang out, listen to records or watch TV.

If me and Mike Dirnt are in the same room, it's not quite right if he's not on stage with me.

Moshing and broken glass just don't go together.

I don't feel any shame I won't apologize if there ain't nowhere you can go running away from pain when you've been victimized tales from another broken home.