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Hunter said these words to me many years ago: "I would feel real trapped in this life if I didn't know I could commit suicide at any time." I knew he meant it. It wasn't a case of if, but when. He didn't reckon he would make it beyond 30 anyway, so he lived it all in the fast lane. There was no first, second, third and top gear in the car - just overdrive.
He was in a hurry. "Drive your stake into a darkened heart in a red Mercedes-Benz. The blackness hides a speeding tramp. The savage breast pretends. But never mind the nights, my love, because they never really happened anyway."
So we wrote in a Beverly Hills house one drunken night. I wrote the stanzas, he wrote the chorus. "Don't write, Ralph," he said, "you'll bring shame on your family." "Those Weird and Twisted Nights." That was the song. (More ..) http://northstr.blogspot.com/HST
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