Sex, drugs and rock & roll. Or swing. Dancing in night clubs. Not in the cold rain, just in hot clubs. With spotlights right on my face so I can’t see them and I can’t see him. I started singing so he would pick me up. But now, when I sing, I’m far away. I sing so that no one will find me. I go on the stage and I’m invisible and invincible. They disappear and I’m in a desert. It’s magic. But it’s his nature… I know. He is a wolf, the Big Bad Wolf and I’m a little ginger. It is the perfect match, I know. But how many times more do we have to do this? Each time, only the setting is different. The city took over the woods and I grew up. He started wearing a suit and grandma is not that afraid of wolves anymore. She likes it when dogs lick her… face… it’s kind of the same, I guess. I don’t wanna get involved. But this is our nature, we can’t deny it. The lights are on and we are still there, eaten alive by inspiration, every time our story is read at your child’s bed.