Life would be so colourful if only I had a drink problem.
I could only tolerate an afternoon if I took a triple amount of the stated dose of valium prescribed by my GP (who would soon take his own life).
The fire in the belly is essential, otherwise you become Michael Buble - famous and meaningless.
Artists aren't really people. And I'm actually 40 per cent papier mache.
Satan rejected my soul; as low as he goes, he never quite goes this low.
I was wasting my time, praying for love. For a love that never comes, from someone who does not exist.