gimme the losers



all my heroes die broke after losing the big game
alone with their perfect misery.
to believe in any one person is a stretch at best, anyways.
i choose the losers.

gimme the broken hearted, down and out lowlifes
who know something about the real world.
the ones who gave it all the had only to be knocked out by a left hook when they weren't looking.
gimme the losers.

at least a dope fiend's honest about his limitations
and an alcoholic will pick up a tab.
it's always the dealer who tries to sell you salvation sitting in his ride with the pimped out cab.
i'll take the losers.

the castaways.
the forgotten.
the unsung.
the last ones picked.
stuck in right field.
waiting for the last bus.
on the wrong side of the tracks.
in the worst part of town.

forget about the two bit actors and soap opera stars
rock god know-it-alls and distinguished gentlemen from georgia.
playboy pinups, talk show junkies, jocks, and six foot tall models from brazil.

gimme the losers.

you can have the five time champions and pulitzer prize winning writers
living in some cottage in taos, new mexico.
the exercise gurus and real estate geniuses and country club cowboys.

i'll take the losers.

the losers.
who have loved and lost.
lived at all costs.
and paid their dues to an unknown.

the losers.
who are always late to the ball
and always seem to slip and fall
trying to find their way back home.

gimme the losers,


scott