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Baxter Dury

Baxter Dury

It’s 3am… In another light, with others eyes this club might look a bit shabby. Frayed at seams, stained, smelly, sticky, suffocated by oppressive prosaic music and would be playboys. Tonight though, it’s a palace, because it’s 3am and for the first time in ages… months, you’re not at home. Alone. Because someone broke your heart. Actually, they didn’t just break it. They shattered it leaving shrapnel-like memories of your old relationship scattered around your life, ready to stab you in your rawest wounds when you least expect it, dragging you back down into the despair you keep trying to climb away from. But not tonight… because it’s 3am and you’re out. You’re holding court. So ignore the reflux rising up your throat, the table of half drunk glasses and the sweet, alcohol-infused sweat peppering your forehead, you are the coolest person here. Tonight you can be anyone you want: rogue or royal. You’ve got the swagger, the danger, the grace, the charm. Your confidence is back and your internal monologue is helpfully reminding you that you’re NOT thinking about the person who broke your heart… No… You’re not thinking about them… Definitely not… Because this is your new life, your new domain… This is your heartbreak.

Behold the Prince Of Tears.


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