"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.
Inside every teenage girl there's a fountain
Inside every young pair of pants there's a mountain
Inside every mother's eyes is Tommy Tinkrem's bed
Inside every candidate waits a grateful dead
I make it a thing, when I'm on my own to relieve myself
I make it a thing, when I gazelle on stage to believe in myself
I make it a thing, to glance in window panes and look pleased with myself
Yeah, and pretend I'm walking home
I took it so bad, I sat in the correction room
Took me a fag, and a kick in the moon
Well, I ain't gonna suck no radar wing
Because inside this tin is tin
Would you like to techno-plate cause I'm your candidate
Oh yeah
It's a matter of life
And the way you walk, you've got a BrylCream queen
It's a matter of tact
In the things you talk, that keeps his passport clean
A matter of fact
That a cock ain't a cock on a twelve inch screen
So I'll pretend I'm walking home
You don't have to scream a lot to keep an age in tune
You don't have to scream a lot to predict monsoons
You don't have to paint my contact black
Now I've hustled a pair of jeans
Do I have to give your money back when I'm the Fuhrerling
I'll make you a deal
I'll say I came from from Earth and my tongue is taped
I'll make you a deal
You can get your kicks on the candidate
I'll make you a deal
For your future's sake, I'm the candidate
Let's pretend we're walking home
uh-huh, uh-huh
I'm the candidate
I'm the candidate
Vote now for the candidate
Inside every young pair of pants there's a mountain
Inside every mother's eyes is Tommy Tinkrem's bed
Inside every candidate waits a grateful dead
I make it a thing, when I'm on my own to relieve myself
I make it a thing, when I gazelle on stage to believe in myself
I make it a thing, to glance in window panes and look pleased with myself
Yeah, and pretend I'm walking home
I took it so bad, I sat in the correction room
Took me a fag, and a kick in the moon
Well, I ain't gonna suck no radar wing
Because inside this tin is tin
Would you like to techno-plate cause I'm your candidate
Oh yeah
It's a matter of life
And the way you walk, you've got a BrylCream queen
It's a matter of tact
In the things you talk, that keeps his passport clean
A matter of fact
That a cock ain't a cock on a twelve inch screen
So I'll pretend I'm walking home
You don't have to scream a lot to keep an age in tune
You don't have to scream a lot to predict monsoons
You don't have to paint my contact black
Now I've hustled a pair of jeans
Do I have to give your money back when I'm the Fuhrerling
I'll make you a deal
I'll say I came from from Earth and my tongue is taped
I'll make you a deal
You can get your kicks on the candidate
I'll make you a deal
For your future's sake, I'm the candidate
Let's pretend we're walking home
uh-huh, uh-huh
I'm the candidate
I'm the candidate
Vote now for the candidate
Lyrics submitted by Mr. Murdock
Alternative Candidate [Demo Version] Lyrics as written by David Bowie
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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