Kasabian

All These Pills Got To Operate

Vodka is magic. Vodka is poetry. Vodka is you own romantic rock bottom. You try to see the stars from it but all you can see is a smoke and some stupid faces. Lots of places you have been, lots of faces you have seen… But only one face is real. One face that can make you happy and can make you kill. Only one place that can heal… And that makes you crazy. You drown in vodka and you become someone else. Then it’s a horrible hang-out tomorrow. And still you become someone else. Someone good? Someone terrible and strong? Someone who will never live with a goodbye kiss. You cannot live with it. You want more, you need more. And you will get more.

No words can save you. No drinks can save you. Seems like nothing can save you.

Only this one face can save you from yourself.

Seems like we’ve all had no choice. But it’s such a crap! Such a bullsh*t! We always do have choices not to ruin

We all have choices not to drown in vodka. Vodka isn a horrible kisser and a very, very bad lover.

We all are to see stars from our cozy hills. No rock bottoms and dead ends.

No ends at all. We all do not ever end. Nothing true can end. Nothing. So get out of your rock bottom and give me your hand. Or at least give me your sign.

And listen to Kasabian again, again and again. They are the sign.

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