"We sail tonight for Singapore, don't fall asleep while you're ashore, cross your heart and hope to die when you hear the children cry. Let marrow bone and cleaver choose while making feet for children shoes. Through the alley, back from hell, when you hear that steeple bell you must say goodbye to me." I like scotch and cheap beer and Pall Mall Oranges. Along with the lost stories of the homeless, disheartened, and members of lost generations, these things fuel me to write.