Grace Carollo

56%
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In the years to come, during all-night coked-out blab-fests, even during our most soul-baring moments, I always kinda knew we were full of shit, our brains just looking for a vehicle to get all that chaotic coke energy out; a dog-chasing-its-tail way of emoting that never came to anything real.
Acid for the Children: A Memoir
by Flea
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