One of the best compliments I ever received- especially from someone who matters- is that I am “Full of Voodoo.”
After all the horrors of the last few years, I was beginning to have my doubts that there was any juju left in this battered body.
Seems there is a bit of Voodoo left. It feels good. It feels damn good. It’s a reminder of why I should bother fighting in the first place.
So there’s voodoo in the old boy yet. Fuck me, that’s good to know.
“I’m not the one who’s so far away
when I feel the snake bite
Enter my veins
never did I want to be here again…
…. and I don’t remember why I came.”
(Which would also be my pro- wrestling entrance music)