The Fat Girl by Lyle Lovett.
This entry was posted on July 1, 2012 by prinnysprims. It was filed under Uncategorized .
Hadn’t thought of this song in a while. It kind of reminds me of this song by John Prine, not just because of the fat girl theme, but also as a comment on the loneliness of damaged souls, or something like that …
Small town, bright lights, Saturday night,
Pinballs and pool halls flashing their lights.
Making change behind the counter in a penny arcade
Sat the fat girl daughter of Virginia and Ray-
Lydia hid her thoughts like a cat
Behind her small eyes sunk deep in her fat.
She read romance magazines up in her room
And felt just like Sunday on Saturday afternoon.
But dreaming just comes natural
Like the first breath from a baby,
Like sunshine feeding daisies,
Like the love hidden deep in your heart.
Bunk beds, shaved heads, Saturday night,
A warehouse of strangers with sixty watt lights.
Staring through the ceiling, just wanting to be
Lay one of too many, a young PFC:
There were spaces between Donald and whatever he said.
Strangers had forced him to live in his head.
He envisioned the details of romantic scenes
After midnight in the stillness of the barracks latrine.
Hot love, cold love, no love at all.
A portrait of guilt is hung on the wall.
Nothing is wrong, nothing is right.
Donald and Lydia made love that night.
They made love in the mountains, they made love in the streams,
They made love in the valleys, they made love in their dreams.
But when they were finished there was nothing to say,
‘Cause mostly they made love from ten miles away.
(Note the comment from SL user CreepyTheButcher on the vid’s YouTube page – lmao.)
July 21, 2012 at 2:45 am
Shit I’m gonna have to buzz that Creepy, he sounds like one cool dood.
August 3, 2012 at 4:49 am
Man that Prine fellow is quite the wordsmith!
Sometimes I’ll get an idea for an SL graphic to go with a song spontaneously, so it was just easy to make a fat Prinny, and also, the words came to me in my head kind of unexpectedly. I was sad about someone, maybe Jen actually, and the jukebox in my brain started playing ‘They don’t mean it, they don’t mean it’.. But really, nobody does bitter better than Lyle Lovett. ha!
August 3, 2012 at 4:47 am
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