Hard-Loving Loser - Mimi & Richard Fariña

He’s the kind of guy puts on a motorcycle jacket

And he weigh about a hundred and five

He’s the kind of surfer got a ho-daddy haircut

And you wonder how he’ll ever survive

He’s the kind of frogman wearin' twenty pounds of counterweights

And sinkin' in the sea like a stone

He’s the kind of soldier got no sense of direction

And they send him in the jungle alone

But when the frost’s on the pumpkin and the litle girls are jumpin'

He’s a hard lovin' son of a gun

He’s got them waitin' down the stairs just to sample his affairs

And they call him a spoonful of fun

He’s the kind of person goin' ridin' on a skateboard

And his mind’s ragin' out of control

He’s the kind of person goes to drive a Maserati

Puts his key inside the wrong little hole

He’s the kind of ski bum tearin' wild down the mountain

Hits a patch where there ain’t any snow

He’s the kind of cowboy got a hot trigger finger

Shoots his boot 'cause he’s drawin' kind of slow

But when it comes in for rollin', he’s an expert at bowlin'

Sets the pins up and lays 'em right down

He’s got them takin' off their heels and they like the way he feels

And they call him a carnival clown

He’s got a parachute and screamin' out, «Geronimo»

And makes a little hole in the ground

He’s the kind of logger when the man hollers, «Timber»

Got to stop and look around for the sound

He’s the kind of artist rents a groovy little attic

And discovers that he can’t grow a beard

He’s the human cannon ball come in for a landin'

And he wonders where the net disappeared

But when he takes off his shoes, man, it won’t come as news

He’s got them linin' up in threes and in twos

He’s got them paintin' on the floor, got them beggin' for some more

And they call him whatever they choose