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Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III


Background information
Birth name Loudon Snowden Wainwright III
Born September 5, 1946
Born place Chapel Hill, North Carolina, U.S.
Genre(s) Folk
Rock
Blues
Comedy
Years active 1967—present
Label(s) Arista Records
Virgin Records
Red House Records
Columbia Records
Sanctuary Records
Atlantic Records
Legacy Recordings
Rounder Records
Hannibal Records
Charisma Records
Concord Records
Associated acts Rufus Wainwright
Martha Wainwright
Lucy Wainwright Roche
Richard Thompson
Kate and Anna McGarrigle
The Roches
Joe Henry
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  L  →  Loudon Wainwright III  →  Albums  →  Attempted Mustache

Loudon Wainwright III Album



1973
1.
2.
3.
Bell Bottom Pants
4.
Liza
5.
I Am the Way (New York Town)
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
Dilated to Meet You
12.
. . .


This summer I went swimming
This summer I might have drowned
But I held my breath, I kicked my feet
Moved my arms around
I moved my arms around

This summer I swam in the ocean
And I swam in a swimming pool
Salt my wounds, chlorined my eyes
I'm a self-destructive fool
Self-destructive fool

This summer I did the back stroke
And you know that that's not all
I did the breast stroke, the butterfly
And the old Australian crawl
The old Australian crawl

This summer I swam in a public place
And a reservoir to boot
At the latter I was informal
At the former I wore my suit
I wore my swimming suit

Oh, this summer I did swan dives
And jack-knives for you all
And once when you weren't looking
I did a cannon-ball
I did a cannon-ball

This summer I went swimming
This summer I might have drowned
But I held my breath, I kicked my feet
And moved my arms around

. . .


I'm riding in a long black car
I'm riding in a long black car
Chauffeur's in the front, I'm in the back
It's a limousine and I'm a star
It's calculated and it's cold
It's calculated and it's cold
They love my ass, I go first class
Who needs a heart of gold
It's not all swell as it seems
No the dream's not as swell as it may seem
There's ups and there's downs and autograph hounds
It's not all peaches and cream
But yes it's a dream come true
Yes it's a dream come true
I got three guitars, I got credit cards
I got more money than you
Baby it's an A.M world
Baby it's an A.M world
Get yourself a flag, run it up a pole
And keep that thing unfurled
I'm riding in a long black car
I'm riding in a long black car
Chauffeur's in the front, I'm in the back
It's a limousine and I'm a star

. . .

Bell Bottom Pants

[No lyrics]

. . .

Liza

[No lyrics]

. . .

I Am the Way (New York Town)

[No lyrics]

. . .


You got the black belt, I got the gun.
Let's team up tonight--have some fun.
Let's drink some drinks, find us some fights.
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon: it's Saturday night!

I'm very angry, you're hopping mad.
Let's hurt some people--let's hurt them bad.
Let's break some heads, let's bust some teeth.
C'mon, it's Saturday night: let's get some relief!

We'll get our rocks off.
We'll rape a co-ed.
La la la la la la la la la...
Beat on a wino 'til he is dead.
I'll slug a hippie, you'll plug a cop.
We'll go on a rampage and we won't wanna stop.

Oh baby.
Now they say he's helpless. I do not care.
Let's get the guy in the wheelchair.
God I hate women: they mess up your life.
I'll kill your mother, you kill my wife.

Oh darling.
It's a hard day at the office, one needs to unwind.
Let's mix up some cocktails...the Molotov kind.
Burn down the high school...the synogogue.
Let's burn down McDonald's--let's go whole hog!
Quarter pounder.

Now I know a rooftop, don't you say nope.
Let's try out your rifle, the one with the scope.
Tomorrow is Sunday, there's gonna be some parades.
Back at my house, I've got some grenades.
I've got the black belt, you've got the gun.
Hey, we're gonna team up tonight: have some fun!

. . .


Well, I call you up on the phone: nobody's at home.
Then I do my usual thing: I let the telephone ring and ring and ring.
I'm standing at a phone booth, coping with the ugly truth.

You see, I know where you are... I know where you are.
You're down drinking at the bar.

I can picture you there on that stool, drinking like a drunken fool.
Yeah, you're sitting there on your ass, muttering into your glass.
Paying for your lowlife thrills with wet quarters and soggy one dollar bills.

I know where you are, baby.
You're down drinking at the bar.

Dean Martin's on the jukebox, I bet.
Or maybe it's Tammy Wynette.
The tearjerkers are jerking your tears.
Salt water in your whiskey and your beers.
You've got the Miller High Life bouncing balls.
You've got the Utica Club waterfalls.

I know where you are, oh ho.
You're down at the bar.
You're down at the bar.

Go ahead get drunk, it's alright.
Lost weekend on a Tuesday night.
But I'm going to have to give you the score:
I'm not going to call you up on the telephone no more.
I'm sick and tired of listening to that phone ring 15 times.
I'm sick and tired of getting back my dimes!

Because I know what you are.
You're at sot, that's what you are.
I know what you are.
You're a lush.
You got a big red nose!

I know where you are, baby.
I know where you are...
You're down drinking at the bar.

. . .


There once was a man who just couldn't cry
He hadn't cried for years & for years
Napalmed babies & the movie 'Love Story',
For instance could not produce tears
As a child he had cried as all children will
But at some point the tear ducts ran dry
He grew to be a man & the feces hit the fan
Things got bad but he couldn't cry

His dog got run over, his wife up & left him
After that he got sacked from his job
Lost an arm in the war, was laughed at by a whore
But still not a sniffle & sob
Well his novel was refused & his movie was banned
And his biog Broadway show was a flop
He was sent off to jail, you guessed it, no bail
But still not a dribble or drop

In jail he was beaten, bullied & buggered
And made to make licence plates
Water & bread was all he was fed
But not once did a tear stain his face
Doctors were called in, scientists too,
Theologians were last & practically least
They all agreed sure enough
He was no cream puff
But in fact an insensitive beast

He was removed from jail & placed in a place
For the insensitive & the insane
He played lots of chess & he made lots of friends
And he wept every time it would train
Once it rained 40 days & it rained 40 nights
And he cried and he cried and he cried and he cried
On the 41st day he just passed away
He just dehydrated & died

He went up to heaven located his dog
Not only that but he rejoined his arm
Down below all the critics, they took it all back
Cancer robbed the whore of her charm
His ex-wife died of stretch marks, his ex-employer went broke
The theologians were finally found out
Right down to the ground, the prison burned down
The earth suffered perpetual drought

. . .


We've come a long way since we last shook hands
Still got a long way to go
We couldn't see the flowers since we last shook hands
Couldn't see the flowers on account of the snow

What did you do with your burden and your cross
Did you carry it yourself or did you crack
You and I know that a burden and a cross
Can only be carried on one man's back

All my life I wanted to roam
To go to the ends of the earth
But the earth really ends where you started to roam
You and I know what a circle is worth

Let's drink a cup to what went down
There's not much left to reveal
I think I changed my mind after what went down
As to who in the end got the better deal

Give me your hand for the parting touch
Fare thee well and thanks a lot
I know that we promised we would keep in touch
But you and I know that we both forgot

We've come a long way since we last shook hands
Still got a long way to go
Couldn't see the flowers when we last shook hands
Couldn't see the flowers on account of the snow

. . .


Well it's 3am, and so I creep
Around the house 'cause you're asleep
I can't sleep, I gotta smoke
I think I left some in my coat
No they're not there, but there's a chance
I left some in a packet in my pants

Bumped into the table, just below the belt
If you were a man baby you'd know how that felt
Just one thing I don't want to do
And that one thing is to wake up you
My hands are shaking, my brow it is damp
Bumped into the chair, knocked over the lamp
Bumped into the chair, knocked over the lamp

Sure I know where some cigarettes are
But it's too cold outside to go to the car
I know this habit of mine, it's gotta be fed

I'm gonna get down I'm gonna scrounge around under the bed
Under the bed, down on the floor
Up on top baby I can hear you snore
Snore baby... ooooooh
Snore baby... ooooooh
Eureka! I'm in luck
I found some matches and a crumpled butt
And just to show I love you
I'm not gonna look for an ashtray baby, I'm gonna use your shoe!

. . .

Dilated to Meet You

[No lyrics]

. . .


Shut up and go to bed.
Put the pillow under your head.
I'm sick and tired of all of your worries.

Shut up and say goodnight.
Say your prayers and turn out the lights.
I'm sick and tired of all of your sob stories.

Shut up and shut your eyes.
No more histrionics, no more college tries.
Stop pushing. Stop shoving. Stop straining.

Shut your mouth and button your lip.
You're a late night faucet that's got a drip.
All your doing is mearly complaining.

The excuse that you're crazy is useless.
You're not biting, you're barking.
You're toothless.
But you're ruthless.

Shut up and count some sheep.
Do me a favor and don't bitch in your sleep.
No more agony.
Please, no more sorrow.

Shut up and catch some ZZZs.
Ice cream with a cherry plus a big pretty please.
I promise we'll resume tomorrow.
Good night.

. . .


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