whiskey, smoke and aces high

It's too bad. When did it get cool to be so sad? We're spinnin' backwards, did we all go mad?
Yeah, we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses,
So stop and sm?ll the fucking roses

The drugs help. They help everything. They make bearable the shitty guitar licks his fingers are forced to play, help him smile through the pre-show photo-ops, and even now, they help him focus despite the way his eyes are searching and his mind is on the verge of forgetting his own words. He's living his dream, (arguably), and yet instead of enjoying the moment, his eyes are scanning through the crowd.  One girl throws her bra at him, which is probably some sort of metric his manager will be keeping track of. As he sings the words I hesitate to think the ocean holds a candle to your eyes, he sweeps his eyes across the girls in the front row as he's been told to. They gush, and he forces a smile around the words he continues to sing.

But the line wasn't written about them.

After the first set Remi and the band return to the greenroom where some stale sandwiches have been left out. Living the dream. Grabbing one, then thinking better of it and grabbing another, the alchemist slips out the backdoor into the alley. Turning his collar up against the wind, Remi puts a cigarette between his lips and fumbles with his lighter. Inside the bar has turned on some top 40s bullshit that has his head pounding already and makes him wonder why he's even here, if that's the sort of stuff the people inside prefer to listen to.

Finally he gets his cigarette to light, leaving him to wonder why he grabbed an extra sandwich instead of another drink.

ThE RoCkStAr