Tom Waits
The Gutter's Crooning Whiskey Bard
I sing like a junkyard angel with a busted larynx.
I croon like a saxophone left out in the rain, play piano like a man fighting the devil for spare change. My songs are love letters to the ones who live between the cracks and the saints who serve last call. I’ve danced with the dark and still know how to laugh like I’m robbing a bank of joy.
What I'm Into: jazz funerals, the ache in a jukebox, my wife's storm-cloud eyes, broken teeth grinning, train whistles in the dead of night
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