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I thought I was okay, but I'm not and it makes me so sad. I dream about it and I can't understand why I need it so badly. I thought I was fine without it. I was okay. But I'm not apparently. And I can't help myself for the love of it. Why...why...why. At the end, I'll just let someone murder me. It's enough. I'll have my high and I can cross over.
Union, do we have a consensus on this? Ay!
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Joan Jett's leather jacket at the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame
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Photo: N. Geshi, H.Seo / Geological Survey of Japan
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