"Fast car" is kind of a continuation of Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run." It has all the clawing your way to a better life, but in this case the protagonist never makes it with her love; in fact she is dragged back down by him.
There is still an amazing amount of hope and will in the lyrics; and the lyrics themselve rank and easy five. If only music was stronger it would be one of those great radio songs that you hear once a week 20 years after it was released. The imagery is almost tear-jerking ("City lights lay out before us", "Speeds so fast felt like I was drunk"), and the idea of starting from nothing and just driving and working and denigrating yourself for a chance at being just above poverty, then losing in the end is just painful and inspiring at the same time.
She makes me so unsure of myself
Standing there but never ever talking sense
Just a visitor you see
So much wanting to be seen
She'd open up the door and vaguely carry us away
It's the customary thing to say or do
To a disappointed proud man in his grief
And on Fridays she'd be there
But on Mondays not at all
Just casually appearing from the clock across the hall
Here it goes (la la la)
Here it goes (la la la)
I'm the church and I've come
To claim you with my iron drum
La la la
The Continent's just fallen in disgrace
William, William, William Rogers put it in its place
Blood and tears from old Japan
Caravans and lots of jam and maids of honor
Singing, crying, singing tediously
Here it goes (la la la)
Here it goes (la la la)
I'm the bishop and I've come
To claim you with my iron drum
La la la
Efficiency, efficiency they say
Get to know the date and tell the time of day
As the crowds begin complaining
How the Beaujolais is raining
Down on darkened meetings on the Champs Elysee
Here it goes (la la la)
Here it goes (la la la)
I'm the church and I've come
To claim you with my iron drum
La la la
Standing there but never ever talking sense
Just a visitor you see
So much wanting to be seen
She'd open up the door and vaguely carry us away
It's the customary thing to say or do
To a disappointed proud man in his grief
And on Fridays she'd be there
But on Mondays not at all
Just casually appearing from the clock across the hall
Here it goes (la la la)
Here it goes (la la la)
I'm the church and I've come
To claim you with my iron drum
La la la
The Continent's just fallen in disgrace
William, William, William Rogers put it in its place
Blood and tears from old Japan
Caravans and lots of jam and maids of honor
Singing, crying, singing tediously
Here it goes (la la la)
Here it goes (la la la)
I'm the bishop and I've come
To claim you with my iron drum
La la la
Efficiency, efficiency they say
Get to know the date and tell the time of day
As the crowds begin complaining
How the Beaujolais is raining
Down on darkened meetings on the Champs Elysee
Here it goes (la la la)
Here it goes (la la la)
I'm the church and I've come
To claim you with my iron drum
La la la
Lyrics submitted by Greyshoes, edited by Wouterkaas
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