JJ Cale said it. Wrote it. Sang it. And I’m feeling it. She don’t lie, cocaine. In fact, she’s the fucking berries.
When you’re feeling this good, the music sounds perfect, the temperature is awesome, the company, no matter how limited is fabulous and the beer tastes like honey. It’s all good. It’s all bad, of course, but, fuck it’s good.
I’ve taken coke in places where most people won’t even dare to go. I’ve paid for it in currencies varying from a smile to a fuck. I’ve loved it and hated it. I’ve yearned for it when I needed it and I couldn’t have it. But there’s nothing like it. There’s nothing like feeling like god, even though you know deep down inside that you are so far from god you have horns and a tail. Fuck it.
I’m god. I’m Layla. I’m Jolene. I’m Lucile. I’m Charlotte Sometimes and every single cool woman anyone’s ever written a song about. I’m me. Just better. The infinite ‘fuck this’ feeling that good quality (and highly unsuspecting) coke gives you is better than a round of applause at the local Y. It’s pure evil and godliness all wrapped up in a red plastic wrapper, siffed, chopped and snarfed. It’s what dreams that end in tragedies are made of. You know you’re fucking up, you know you’re so doing the wrong thing and loving the wrong, most ungodly substance, but damn it’s so good. And why not. You only live once, right?
It changes you. Mentally, for sure. I mean, you’re taking fucking excellent coke. And then it changes you physically. You feel better. Beautiful. Softer. Lighter. Happier (dead giveaway). It pushes what one would call your “happy buttons”. It takes away all the bad things. You know the bad things are still there, but you don’t give two shits. No sir. You still have the same issues. The same shit, difference is, you don’t give a fuck. And that is what makes it so fucking cool. What else can do that? What else can make you not give a fuck about all the nasties. Don’t know about you, but sometimes you just have to say, “Well, why the hell not?”
When you’re feeling this good, the music sounds perfect, the temperature is awesome, the company, no matter how limited is fabulous and the beer tastes like honey. It’s all good. It’s all bad, of course, but, fuck it’s good.
I’ve taken coke in places where most people won’t even dare to go. I’ve paid for it in currencies varying from a smile to a fuck. I’ve loved it and hated it. I’ve yearned for it when I needed it and I couldn’t have it. But there’s nothing like it. There’s nothing like feeling like god, even though you know deep down inside that you are so far from god you have horns and a tail. Fuck it.
I’m god. I’m Layla. I’m Jolene. I’m Lucile. I’m Charlotte Sometimes and every single cool woman anyone’s ever written a song about. I’m me. Just better. The infinite ‘fuck this’ feeling that good quality (and highly unsuspecting) coke gives you is better than a round of applause at the local Y. It’s pure evil and godliness all wrapped up in a red plastic wrapper, siffed, chopped and snarfed. It’s what dreams that end in tragedies are made of. You know you’re fucking up, you know you’re so doing the wrong thing and loving the wrong, most ungodly substance, but damn it’s so good. And why not. You only live once, right?
It changes you. Mentally, for sure. I mean, you’re taking fucking excellent coke. And then it changes you physically. You feel better. Beautiful. Softer. Lighter. Happier (dead giveaway). It pushes what one would call your “happy buttons”. It takes away all the bad things. You know the bad things are still there, but you don’t give two shits. No sir. You still have the same issues. The same shit, difference is, you don’t give a fuck. And that is what makes it so fucking cool. What else can do that? What else can make you not give a fuck about all the nasties. Don’t know about you, but sometimes you just have to say, “Well, why the hell not?”
