i don’t dream about anyone…except myself

punching the clockhow sleazy does a it have to be that a junkie will no longer tolerate your presence and impugn your integrity? clearly the change to nosferatu resulted in the shell of a human being expulsing music but how strange can a hero become? apparently strange enough to take a shot at love. while the new millennium has not been kind to him, what shreds of dignity remain for billy corgan to rent asunder while punching the rock ‘n roll clock?

“william, william it was really nothing, it was your life…”

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