<strong><em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;"> A song, a song about her life?  A drugged up mother and an absentee father who now wanted more money than she had not to mention money that he wasn’t entitled to.  Sex, Drugs, and Rock N’ Roll, that was her life as clichéd as it may be or even sound.  Jazz, sat there dumbfounded for a momentarily before downing her juice and vodka.<br/><br/>     Standing up, Jazz washed her glass out before putting it away for later use.  She knocked on Light’s door, lightly before entering.  “I know we need new material but my life well…do we really need to write a song about our lives?”  Jazz asked slightly worried about the process, not about song writing, but about the contents of the song.</span></span></em></strong><br/>