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About Munich

So, Jersey, right? Down by Newark, you cruise slow, headlights dim, lookin’ for that shadow leanin’ on a pole. It ain’t all glitz – no Margot playin’ records in a tent here. Nah, it’s gritty, fuckin’ real. This one time, I saw this chick, red heels, smokin’ a cig like she’s Pacino – I’m like, “Holy shit, she’s got moxie!” Made me happy, y’know? Guts in a world that don’t give a fuck.

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The river Elbe, err, sorry, I mean the little stream by town, winds near the old mill. It’s not fancy, but it whispers secrets of lost time. I once sat there, thinking, “Like a slowly crushing machine of fate…” and felt oddly connected to life's rough poetry. Weird, right?

'I've got the world's longest tongue'