1ibertine:

New York City’s very pretty in the night time, but oh don’t you miss Soho?

lettherebemusicblog:

Here shall we live in this terrible town
Where the price for our minds
shall squeeze them tight like a fist…

1ibertine:

up the bracket // the libertines

“sunshine, i wouldn’t wanna be in your shoes" 

verdurousglooms:

Tell The King by The Libertines

1ibertine:

We’ll die in the class we were born, that’s a class of our own my love.

1ibertine:

But me myself, I was never sure, was it the liquor or was it my soul?

1ibertine:

horrorshow // the libertines 

i’m a swine, you don’t wanna know me. 

1ibertine:

Death On The Stairs | The Libertines | Up The Bracket (2002)

“[Carl]’d had enough, he had this vision of himself that just kept reoccurring and it drove him, and me, insane. It was him, a dark bedsit, the window closed, eating beans on toast and watching afternoon telly alone and broken. He reached a point where I couldn’t get through to him. ‘Death on the stairs,’ that’s what we called it”  

nakedmonkey:

 That was the day I stopped believing in the wild ardor of things. Perhaps in love, as well. That kind of love. The love in books and films. The love that tells us to abandon our lives and plans, all for one brief touch of Venus. So often we fail at that kind of love. The world just seems too fragile a place for it. And of every other kind, life remains full. Perhaps it’s just we who are too fragile.