Sustained by madness. Sustained by Darkness. Heroes and Fuck-ups bounding through time. I sit alone. I raise a strong drink. To your songs. Your words in thick black ink. And lives lived. Not fairy tales but flesh and blood.nRimbaud on the Red Sea. Strummer in the slum. Plath at her daddy's grave. Hunter with his gun.nThese Punks. These Cowards.nThese Mad Dogs of Glory.nBukowski on a binge in the streets of L.A. Those who lived hard cause they could see no other way. Push a little bit of lights towards me.nThese Mad Dogs of Glory.nWhat you were born to be. What you become. And what is left of a man when his work is done. It's hard to imagine. It's hard to conceive. Your abuse. Your failures. Your boredom. Your years of uncertainty. Too Human. All Too Human. This Breathing in and out. Breathe in. Breathe Out.nMiller in the tropics. Lorca murdered in the street. Richey at the Severn Bridge feeling incomplete.nFrom here to eternity.nThese Mad Dogs of Glory.nAn orphan who spoke the silent language of love. A victim of an American witch hunt. A victim of his times.nThese Mad Dogs of Glory.nSustained by Madness. Sustained by Darkness.nPush a little bit of light towards me.nThese Mad Dogs of Glory