Charles Bukowski - The World’s Greatest Loser (Live) lyrics

The world's greatest loser

He used to sell papers in front
"getcha winners! get rich on a dime!"
And about the third or fourth race
You’d see him rolling on his rotten board
With his roller skates underneath
He'd propel himself along on his hands
He just had small stumps for legs
And the rims of the skate
Wheels were worn off
You could see inside the wheels and
They would wobble something awful
Shooting and flashing imperialistic sparks
He moved faster than anybody
Rolled cigarette dangling
You could hear him coming
"god almighty! what was that?"
The new ones ask
He was the world's greatest loser
But he never gave up wheeling toward the two
Dollar window screaming
"it's the four horse you fools! how the
Hell you gonna beat the four!?"
Up on the board the four would
Be reading sixty to one
I never heard him pick a winner
They say he slept in the bushes
I guess that’s where he died
He's not around anymore
There was a big fat blonde who kept
Touching him for luck and laughing
Nobody had any luck the whore is gone too
I guess nothing ever works for us
We're fools, of course
Bucking the inside plus a
Fifteen percent take
How are you going to tell a dreamer when
There's a fifteen percent take on the dream
He'll just laugh and say, "is that all?"
I miss those sparks