This is a song about him. It's called A Hard Lovin' Loser.Well, he's the kind of guy puts on a motorcycle jacket and he weighs 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 wearing twenty pounds of counterweight, sinking 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 fog's on the pumpkin and the little girls are jumping, he's a hard-loving son of a gun.He's got them waiting downstairs just to sample his affairs and they all live a spoonful of fun.Well, he's the kind of person going riding on a skateboard and his mind's raging out of control.He's the kind of person goes to drive a Maserati, puts the key inside the wrong little hole.He's the kind of ski bum tearing wild down the mountain, hits a patch where there ain't any snow.He's the kind of cowboy got a hot trigger, figure, shoots his boot cause he's drawing slow.And he comes in for a roll and he's an expert at bowling, sets the pins up, lays them right down.He's got them taking off their heels and they like the way he feels and they call him a carnival clown.Well, he's got a parachute and screaming like Geronimo and makes a little hole in the ground.He's the kind of logger when the man hauls timber, gotta 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 a human cannonball coming for a landing, wonders where the net disappeared.When he takes off his shoes, it won't come as news, they light it up in threes and in twos.He's got them pounding on the door, got them begging for some more.He's got them pounding on the door, got them begging for some more.They call him whatever they choose.Thank you.