I'm drinking here break motor oil and Bombay gin, I'll sleep when I'm dead.

I wrote my songs despite the fact that I was a drunk, not because of it.

I like wherever I am. That's my big secret.

I lay my head on the railroad track, waitin' on the Double E. But the train don't run by here no more, poor, poor, pitiful me.

Little old lady got mutilated late last night, werewolves of London, again.

I missed jazz, kind of. And by the time I came to it in life, it was too intimidating to enjoy thoroughly.

I saw a Werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand