Warren Zevon Album

written by Warren Zevon

I want to live alone in the desert
I want to be like Georgia O'Keefe
I want to live on the Upper East Side
And never go down in the street

Splendid Isolation
I don't need no one
Splendid Isolation

Michael Jackson in Disneyland
Don't have to share it with nobody else
Lock the gates, Goofy, take my hand
And lead me through the World of Self

Splendid Isolation
I don't need no one
Splendid Isolation

Don't want to wake up with no one beside me
Don't want to take up with nobody new
Don't want nobody coming by without calling first
Don't want nothing to do with you

I'm putting tinfoil up on the windows
Lying down in the dark to dream
I don't want to see their faces
I don't want to hear them scream

Splendid Isolation
I don't need no one
Splendid Isolation

Splendid Isolation
I don't need no one

Written By Warren Zevon

Well, I went home with the waitress
The way I always do
How was I to know
She was with the Russians, too

I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this

I'm the innocent bystander
Somehow I got stuck
Between the rock and the hard place
And I'm down on my luck
And I'm down on my luck
And I'm down on my luck

Now I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money

Written By Warren Zevon & Jorge Calderon

I started as an alter boy, working at the church
Learning all my holy moves, doing some research
Which led me to a cash box, labeled "Children's Fund"
I'd leave the change, and tuck the bills inside my cummerbund

I got a part-time job at my father's carpet store
Laying tackless stripping, and housewives by the score
I loaded up their furniture, and took it to Spokane
And auctioned off every last naugahyde divan

I'm very well aquainted with the seven deadly sins
I keep a busy schedule trying to fit them in
I'm proud to be a glutton, and I don't have time for sloth
I'm greedy, and I'm angry, and I don't care who I cross

I'm Mr. Bad Example, intruder in the dirt
I like to have a good time, and I don't care who gets hurt
I'm Mr. Bad Example, take a look at me
I'll live to be a hundred, and go down in infamy

Of course I went to law school and took a law degree
And counseled all my clients to plead insanity
Then worked in hair replacement, swindling the bald
Where very few are chosen, and fewer still are called

Then on to Monte Carlo to play chemin de fer
I threw away the fortune I made transplanting hair
I put my last few francs down on a prostitute
Who took me up to her room to perform the flag salute

Whereupon I stole her passport and her wig
And headed for the airport and the midnight flight, you dig?
And fourteen hours later I was down in Adelaide
Looking through the want ads sipping Fosters in the shade

I opened up an agency somewhere down the line
To hire aboriginals to work the opal mines
But I attached their wages and took a whopping cut
And whisked away their workman's comp and pauperized the lot

I'm Mr. Bad Example, intruder in the dirt
I like to have a good time, and I don't care who gets hurt
I'm Mr. Bad Example, take a look at me
I'll live to be a hundred and go down in infamy

I bought a first class ticket on Malaysian Air
And landed in Sri Lanka none the worse for wear
I'm thinking of retiring from all my dirty deals

Written By Warren Zevon & LeRoy P. Marinell

Well, he went down to dinner in his Sunday best
Excitable boy, they all said
And he rubbed the pot roast all over his chest
Excitable boy, they all said

He took in the four a.m. show at the Clark
Excitable boy, they all said
And he bit the usherette's leg in the dark
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy

He took little Suzie to the Junior Prom
Excitable boy, they all said
And he raped her and killed her, then he took her home
Excitable boy, they all said
Well, he's just an excitable boy
After ten long years they let him out of the home
Excitable boy, they all said
And he dug up her grave and built a cage with her bones
Excitable boy, they all said

Written by Warren Zevon

She tells him she thinks she needs to be free
He tells her he doesn't understand
She takes his hand
She tells him nothing's working out the way they planned

She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind

Then he agrees he thinks she needs to be free
Then she says she'd rather be with him
But it's just a whim
By which she hopes to keep him on the limb

She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part

Written by Warren Zevon

How're you going to make your way in the world
When you weren't cut out for working
When your fingers are slender and frail
How're you going to get around
In this sleazy bedroom town
If you don't put yourself up for sale

Where will you go with your scarves and your miracles
Who's gonna know who you are
Drugs and wine and flattering light
You must try it again till you get it right
Maybe you'll end up with someone different every night

All these people with no home to go home to
They'd all like to spend the night with you
Maybe I would, too

But tell me
How're you going to make your way in the world, woman
When you weren't cut out for working
And you just can't concentrate
And you always show up late

You said you were an actress
Yes, I believe you are
I thought you'd be a star
So I drank up all the money,
Yes, I drank up all the money,
With these phonies in this Hollywood bar,
These friends of mine in this Hollywood bar

Loneliness and frustration
We both came down with an acute case
And when the lights came up at two
I caught a glimpse of you
And your face looked like something
Death brought with him in his suitcase

Your pretty face
It looked so wasted
Another pretty face
Devastated
The French Inhaler
He stamped and mailed her
"So long, Norman"

written by Warren Zevon

I've got a bird that whistles
I've got a bird that sings
I've got a bird that . . . I've got a bird . . .
I'm worried about that bird
And I worry about everything
And I worry when I see my subjects
Bow down to the Worrier King

Well. I'm hiding from the mailman
And I hate to hear the telephone ring
I'm hiding from the mailman
And I hate to hear the telephone
Worried about the women
And I worry about everything
And I worry when I see my subjects
Bow down to the Worrier King

I've been up all night
Wondering what November's gonna bring
Worried about my country
And I worry about everything
And I worry when I see my subjects
Bow down to the Worrier King
Worried about my bird
And I worry about everything
And I worry when I see my subjects

[No lyrics]

Written By Warren Zevon & David Lindell

Roland was a warrior from the Land of the Midnight Sun
With a Thompson gun for hire, fighting to be done
The deal was made in Denmark on a dark and stormy day
So he set out for Biafra to join the bloody fray

Through sixty-six and seven they fought the Congo war
With their fingers on their triggers, knee-deep in gore
For days and nights they battled the Bantu to their knees
They killed to earn their living and to help out the Congolese

Roland the Thompson gunner...

His comrades fought beside him - Van Owen and the rest
But of all the Thompson gunners, Roland was the best
So the CIA decided they wanted Roland dead
That son-of-a-bitch Van Owen blew off Roland's head

Roland the headless Thompson gunner
Norway's bravest son
Time, time, time
For another peaceful war
But time stands still for Roland
'Til he evens up the score
They can still see his headless body stalking through the night
In the muzzle flash of Roland's Thompson gun
In the muzzle flash of Roland's Thompson gun

Roland searched the continent for the man who'd done him in
He found him in Mombassa in a barroom drinking gin
Roland aimed his Thompson gun - he didn't say a word
But he blew Van Owen's body from there to Johannesburg

Roland the headless Thompson gunner...
The eternal Thompson gunner
still wandering through the night
Now it's ten years later but he still keeps up the fight
In Ireland, in Lebanon, in Palestine and Berkeley

written by Warren Zevon

Darkness in the morning
Shadows on the land
Certain individuals
Aren't sticking with the plan

And I'm searching for a heart
Searching everyone
They say love conquers all
You can't start it like a car
You can't stop it with a gun

Leaving in the evening
Traveling at night
Staying inconspicuous
I'm staying out of sight

And I'm searching for a heart
Searching everyone
They say love conquers all
You can't start it like a car
You can't stop it with a gun

They tell me love requires a little standing in line
And I've been waiting for you, lover, for a long, long time
I've been pacing the floor
I've been watching the door
Meanwhile I'll keep searching for a heart

Searching high and low for you
Trying to track you down
Certain individuals
Have finally come around

And I'm searching for a heart
Searching everyone
They say love conquers all
You can't start it like a car
You can't stop it with a gun

They tell me love requires a little standing in line
And I've been waiting for you, lover, for a long, long time
I've been pacing the floor I've been watching the door
Meanwhile I'll keep searching for a heart
Searching everyone
They say love conquers all

Written By Warren Zevon

Hurry home early - hurry on home
Boom Boom Mancini's fighting Bobby Chacon
Hurry home early - hurry on home
Boom Boom Mancini's fighting Bobby Chacon

From Youngstown, Ohio, Ray "Boom Boom" Mancini
A lightweight contender, like father like son
He fought for the title with Frias in Vegas
And he put him away in round number one

Hurry home early - hurry on home
Boom Boom Mancini's fighting Bobby Chacon
Hurry home early - hurry on home
Boom Boom Mancini's fighting Bobby Chacon

When Alexis Arguello gave Boom Boom a beating
Seven weeks later he was back in the ring
Some have the speed and the right combinations
If you can't take the punches it don't mean a thing

Hurry home early - hurry on home
Boom Boom Mancini's fighting Bobby Chacon
Hurry home early - hurry on home
Boom Boom Mancini's fighting Bobby Chacon

When they asked him who was responsible
For the death of Du Koo Kim
He said, "Someone should have stopped the fight, and told me it was him."
They made hypocrite judgments after the fact
But the name of the game is be hit and hit back

Hurry home early - hurry on home
Boom Boom Mancini's fighting Bobby Chacon
Hurry home early - hurry on home

By Jorge Calderon and Warren Zevon

Lear jet S.W.A.T team
On a midnight run
With the M16
And the Ingram gun
We parachute in
We parachute out
"Death from above"
We're screaming now

Where the pay is good
And the risk is high
It's understood
We'll do or die
Sten gun in hand
Where the gun is law
From Ovamboland
To Nicaragua

Strength and muscle and jungle work

Three young men
In a Russian truck
With a little MAC-10
Sent 'em running to the huts
These few young men
The few who dare
To battle in hell
Le Mercenaire!

written by Warren Zevon

Mom and Papa bought a Chickering
Every day I'd sit and play that thing
I practiced hard; it was more than a whim
I played with grim determination, Jim

Someone called Piano Fighter
I'm a holy roller, I'm a real lowrider
Hold me tight, honey, hold me tighter
Then let me go, Piano Fighter

I worked in sessions and I played in bands
A thousand casuals and one-night stands
Here on Thursday, gone on Friday
Heading down the Dixie highway

Someone called Piano Fighter
I'm a holy roller, I'm a real lowrider
Hold me tight, honey, hold me tighter
Then let me go, Piano Fighter

Maybe I'll go to Reno
Nobody knows my name
I'll play Claire de Lune in a quiet saloon
Steady work for a change
Ain't going down that long, lonesome road
Ain't going down that long, lonesome road

Got in trouble down in New Orleans
I must admit that I was strung out, painted in the corner of a limousine

Someone called Piano Fighter
I'm a thin ice walker, I'm a freelance writer
Hold me tight, honey, hold me tighter
Then let me go, Piano Fighter

Someone called Piano Fighter
I'm a holy roller, I'm a real lowrider
Hold me tight, honey, hold me tighter

Written By LeRoy P. Marinell, Waddy Wachtel and Warren Zevon

I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain
He was looking for the place called Lee Ho Fook's
Going to get a big dish of beef chow mein
Werewolves of London

If you hear him howling around your kitchen door
Better not let him in
Little old lady got mutilated late last night
Werewolves of London again
Werewolves of London

He's the hairy handed gent who ran amuck in Kent
Lately he's been overheard in Mayfair
Better stay away from him
He'll rip your lungs out, Jim
I'd like to meet his tailor
Werewolves of London

Well, I saw Lon Chaney walking with the Queen
Doing the werewolves of London
I saw Lon Chaney, Jr. walking with the Queen
Doing the werewolves of London
I saw a werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic's
His hair was perfect
Werewolves of London again

written by Warren Zevon

Time marches on
Time stands still
Time on my hands
Time to kill
Blood on my hands
And my hands in the till
Down at the 7-11
Gentle rain
Falls on me
All life folds back
Into the sea
We contemplate eternity
Beneath the vast indifference of heaven

The past seems realer than the present to me now
I've got memories to last me
When the sky is gray
The way it is today
I remember the times when I was happy

Same old sun
Same old moon
It's the same old story
Same old tune
They all say
Someday soon
My sins will all be forgiven
Gentle rain
Falls on me
All life folds back
Into the sea
We contemplate eternity
Beneath the vast indifference of heaven

They say "Everything's all right"
They say "Better days are near"
They tell us "These are the good times"
But they don't live around here
Billy and Christie don't--
Bruce and Patti don't--
They don't live around here

I had a girl
Now she's gone
She left town
Town burned down
Nothing left
But the sound
Of the front door closing forever

Gentle rain
Falls on me
All life folds back
Into the sea
We contemplate eternity

Written By Warren Zevon

I'd lay my head on the railroad tracks
And wait for the Double "E"
But the railroad don't run no more
Poor, poor pitiful me

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me

Well, I met a girl in West Hollywood
I ain't naming names
She really worked me over good
She was just like Jesse James
She really worked me over good
She was a credit to her gender
She put me through some changes, Lord
Sort of like a Waring blender

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me

Well, I met a girl at the Rainbow bar
She asked me if I'd beat her
She took me back to the Hyatt House
I don't want to talk about it

Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me

(Well, I met a girl from the Vieux Carre`
Down in Yokahama
She picked me up and she throwed me down

written by Warren Zevon

Grandpa pissed his pants again
He don't give a damn
Brother Billy has both guns drawn
He ain't been right since Vietnam

"Sweet home Alabama"
Play that dead band's song
Turn those speakers up full blast
Play it all night long

Daddy's doing Sister Sally
Grandma's dying of cancer now
The cattle all have brucellosis
We'll get through somehow

"Sweet home Alabama"
Play that dead band's song
Turn those speakers up full blast
Play it all night long

I'm going down to the Dew Drop Inn
See if I can drink enough
There ain't much to country living
Sweat, piss, jizz and blood

"Sweet home Alabama"
Play that dead band's song
Turn those speakers up full blast