New Times

Mirror mirror on the wall, as I make my curtain callWhat joys will I never live, with these fateful vows I giveWhere every choice that I make, denies me a better fate,Is this the path I would tread, are you the one I ask in dreadGarth Evans taps his finger against his phone as he relives the night he first sang that chorus. High on a cocktail of hallucinogens and stimulants, he had nearly screamed his vocal chords out of his throat. The drugs had stopped him of the buffers that normally diluted his emotions, and he cried in crippling sorrow, and crowed in euphoric delight, as he laboured through the few minutes it had taken to sing that song through. He had nearly ripped his mind apart that night, sharing how afraid he was of all the mistakes he had made in his life.