1. Wonder wall - Oasis

I watch as you drown in the drugs and pills, as you drown in yourself.

You don’t deserve to be looked up to. You are a conceited, pitiful man who doesn’t know the difference between love and hate. After all that I’ve done for you, what we’ve done for you, and you choose him. Him over me, over us. Over the band.

Every time I try to tell you, tell you that sugar, oh baby, you’re killing yourself, you’re committing homicide on your own being, my tongue gets tied. I always feel like I’ve smoked too much, like I’ve spent ten months in the desert without water.

But maybe, maybe one day I’ll be able to talk to you, tell you, save you. I’ll save you from yourself, from the Satan inside you. And maybe you’ll smile up at me, tell me thank you and kiss me, slow and sweet and perfect. And maybe you’ll punch me in the face, tell me to fuck off, spit in my face and say that I’m just a worthless little fucking punk who doesn’t get it.

One day, one day I’ll be there when you’re over this and you’re happy. When you’re not cocaine and vodka, when you’re not sex and rock n’ roll.

I’ll be there when your eyes are clear, and you’ll look at me like I’m your fucking savior.

2. Believe - Cher

You tell me one day, you don’t believe in love. You don’t believe in that happily ever after bullshit, or that you can spend the rest of your life with one person.

I call bull shit, and you grin around your cigarette and say, “It’s true though. I mean, I may like you and whatnot now, but what happens three years from now? When we have our falling out.” I snort, call bull shit again because, really, I know that I can love you forever. More then forever.

“Maybe you just don’t deserve to love,” I say instead, and your eyes dart to mine real quick before darting away again.

“Maybe,” you say and exhale smoke through your nose.

“Maybe,” I repeat, “and maybe you can’t handle it.” It’s not bitter, not sweet either, just the truth.

3. Your Woman - White Town

I’m in some shitty club, and I spot you, sucking a cigarette down to the filter, eyes lined with purple and blue and yellow. You’re gorgeous, and it makes me think that I could never be yours, yours to fuck and hold and fight with.

I talk to people, get the information on you, and there’s a girl. She tells me that you think that she’s your best friend, but she really hates you deep down. You’re such a sardonic fuck, and I grin, and she tells me that it’s in your genes, your mom’s the same way. And then she tells me that if I want to fuck you, just go up and ask, you’re a whore like that, always have been.

I clear my throat roughly, take a sip of my drink and say, “Okay,” really slowly. She grins and walks away.

We end up fucking in the alleyway, your jeans pushed down to your ankles and mine trapped around my thighs. Your makeup smears and I swallow your moans as they escape your mouth. You cum against my shirt, and I cum deep inside you, making those ugly grunting noises that guys always do.

When we’re done, you grin, try and use your index finger to clean up the mess smudged against your cheeks and the corner of your eyes, and then say, “Gerard,” and hold out your hand.

I grin, chuckle sleepily and say, “Frank,” before shaking your hand.

4. Je Veux Te Voir - Yelle

We’re somewhere in France, twenty or so miles from the Eiffel Tower in some shitty hotel room. You speak horrible French to me the whole time, rolling your ‘r’-s too much and pronouncing the e when you’re not supposed to.

I grin anyways though.

But there’s a night when we’re both like two teenagers, ravaging each other in almost every way possible.

You film us that night, or me in particular, video camera on the bedside table, zoomed in on me as I claw at your back and groan aloud. It’s probably the best lay I’ve ever had, so dirty and raw that I know I’ll be able to feel the pain in my thighs the next day.

When we’re finished, you collapse on top of me and shut the camera off.

We watch it the next night, and I blush and groan a little until you get the hint and we have another round. And it continues like that for days, and it’s probably the best vacation I’ve ever had.

5. Smoke Two Joints - Sublime

It is Frank Iero’s goal to get Ray Toro high. Ray just seems like the guy who is against that shit, doesn‘t like fucking up his karma or whatthefuckever, and he also just happens to be the only band member he hasn’t seen high.

Bob Bryar just smokes and then lays down on the couch, eating a bag of Cheetos or a carton of ice cream while he watches some random show. Mikey Way’s face always goes really red, and he’s super fucking paranoid, always saying, “Did you hear that?” and “Oh my fucking God, Brian’s coming guys.” It kind of pisses Frank off, but it’s better then smoking alone. And Gerard, well, Gerard will sit there and smoke ten bowls in a row to himself, geeking out like a motherfucker and touching everything in sight.

But he’s just… never seen Ray high. He’s always hiding out in the studio or something, writing new riffs or playing that new game.

And then there’s that one day after one of their shows when everyone else has disappeared to god knows where, and Frank pulls out a bag of weed and is just like, “You want?”

Frank finds out that Ray is a funny motherfucker. His eyes get all half lidded and really blood shot, and he makes these stupid ass jokes that cause Frank to laugh until his stomach hurts. Ray just grins and has this ‘What?’ look on his face, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

6. Bound for the Floor - Local H

It’s just Gerard and I sitting in the middle of the van, taking shot after shot of tequila, doing sing-songs of, “One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor.”

Everyone else is out, doing beer bongs with other random party goers, and they call us pathetic because we’re such antisocial fucks. We say, “You just don’t get it,” and laugh and try to hold our eyes open. Ray always rolls his eyes, tells us that okay, whatever, I’ll never get it.

We continue our shots until we’re both drunk enough not to care, and we kiss, slow and sloppy with too much saliva. Whoever finds us first shakes their heads and mutters, “Fucking losers,” before slamming the door shut and going back to the party.

7. Orange Sky - Alexi Murdoch

It’s at sunset, right after you get sober, the both of us leaning against the tour bus and drinking lukewarm water when you say, “I had a dream about this.”

I glance over at you, cock my eyebrow and say, “Yeah?”

You nod, “Yeah. A happily ever after or whatever to all of this bull shit. Just me and you, Mikey standing somewhere near texting Pete fucking Wentz and encouraging me, saying that I’m doing good. You just smile that stupid fucking smile you have and tell him to shut the fuck up and go away.” I laugh.

“It’s a good sign though, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely a good sign. I mean, I’m happy now,” and your fingers linger near my thigh, “Just,” you take in a deep breath, “The happiest I’ve been in what feels like forever.”

I scoot closer so my body’s pressed right up against yours, “Yeah, that’s definitely good.” We watch the sunset together, murmuring that hey, we might see that green flash everyone talks about.

It never comes, but we watch the pink and blue and purple turn to pitch black, stars beginning to twinkle in the distance. You murmur, “I really am happy,” before yawning and resting your head on my shoulder.

8. I Wish You Were Here - Incubus

It’s just right after tour, when we’re all back home with our loved one’s for the holidays, when I realize that I miss you and that I’m jealous. When you’re off with your new wife and your new life.

Six months ago seems like forever, especially when my toes are digging into the sand of the Jersey shore. And I know I shouldn’t miss you, shouldn’t miss the way you only shower every two weeks, or how you always trace the outline of my tattoos with your artist fingers at night.

Already broken waves splash around my feet and I wish you were here. Wish you were here to see that there is one part of Jersey that isn’t ugly and full of smog. You were here to feel the sand move around your feet while you squeak from the cold and grip my upper arm.

I mainly just wish you were here. With me, not her.

9. I’m Designer - Queens of the Stone Age

Our generation is fucked, simple as that.

We walk the red carpet in our too expensive suits and designer sunglasses, holding hands behind our backs as you smirk at the girls and blow kisses. I grin beside you, feral and sardonic. They honor us, bow down at our feet like we’re the next Jesus Christ, like we’ll save them all.

We’re not like we used to be, we cheat on each other, we lie about the marks on our neck, we steal. We are all about the fortune and fame.

We say that we’re high class, but we’ll still hide out in grungy alleyways for our fix, we still go to bars with the cheap booze and we still go to the strip clubs that don’t have good looking girls. Me and you, we’re both still whores. We get head from guys with tongue rings and we hook up with people who’ve had too much extacy. Our ‘I love you’-s aren’t solid, and we know that we won’t be going home together tonight.

You squeeze my hand with a promise that I know you’ll break, but I squeeze back and smile wide for the cameras.

It’s okay though, it’s all good, they don’t know us, and they don’t know how much none and fame together will buy.

10. Drive - Incubus

It’s another state, another town, the same sunshine beating down on my face as Gerard drives.

We began with forty dollars to both our names, traveling from state to state trying to find ourselves. Traveling to get away from our broken hearted homes and the people we used to be.

It’s refreshing, the sound of the tires against the pavement, driving to nowhere and anywhere and everything in between.

We drive and we drive and we drive, Gerards hand curled around mine, hope, want and love being the only things we thrive on. Both of us ignore our phones when our loved ones call, and even though we’re tired of searching, we continue, taking it day by day, stealing pastries from local gas station and filling up our water bottles at rest stops.

It’s unordinary and thrilling, and we drive.