Punk's Not Dead

"What do you mean, 'she's fucking dead'?!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Rotten had just called me at 4 a.m.
At that point, I had been living in southern London for a little while, in a small flat atop the record store I inherited from my father.

"Yeh...please Maxy. Sid has no one else to take care of 'im. The missus won't let me keep 'im 'ere!" Rotten pleaded.
I sighed and listened to what he had to say.

"Look, Maxigan, I know this isn't your problem, but he's your mate too!"

And that won me over.

Sid Vicious, who has been my best friend for 13 years, has been addicted to heroin. He and a woman named Nancy Spungen, were in a relationship. She has recently killed herself, or he killed her?

He was arrested and having heard this, Rotten bailed him out. The trial was supposed to happen sometime next month, but I have this feeling it won't even happen. Thing is, no one really cared about Nancy but Sid.

I was supposed to go pick him up the next day, around 9 a.m. at the airport. I couldn't believe that stupid fuck.

He's just a stupid fuck up and he's gonna fuckin' ruin my life again! Now that I finally have an alright job, a place to stay and I'm clean off drugs, Sid's coming right back to fucking fuck it up!

FUCK!