The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
Now that the furniture's returning to its goodwill home
With dishes and last week's paper
Rumors and elections
Crosswords, an unending war
The black in our fingers
Smear their prints on every door pulled shut
Now that the last month's rent is scheming
With the damage deposit
Take this moment to decide
(Sun in an empty room)
If we meant it, if we tried
(Sun in an empty room)
Or felt around for far too much
(Sun in an empty room)
From things that accidentally touched
(Sun in an empty room)
Hands that we nearly hold
With pennies for the GST
The shoulders we lean our shoulders
Into on the subway, mutter an apology
The shins that we kick
Beneath the table, that reflexive cry
The faces we meet, one awkward beat
Too long and terrified
Know the things we need to say
(Sun in an empty room)
Been said already anyway
(Sun in an empty room)
By parallelograms of light
(Sun in an empty room)
On walls that we repainted white
(Sun in an empty room)
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Take eight minutes and divide
(Sun in an empty room)
By ninety million lonely miles
(Sun in an empty room)
And watch his shadow cross the floor
(Sun in an empty room)
We don't live here anymore
(Sun in an empty room)
With dishes and last week's paper
Rumors and elections
Crosswords, an unending war
The black in our fingers
Smear their prints on every door pulled shut
Now that the last month's rent is scheming
With the damage deposit
Take this moment to decide
(Sun in an empty room)
If we meant it, if we tried
(Sun in an empty room)
Or felt around for far too much
(Sun in an empty room)
From things that accidentally touched
(Sun in an empty room)
Hands that we nearly hold
With pennies for the GST
The shoulders we lean our shoulders
Into on the subway, mutter an apology
The shins that we kick
Beneath the table, that reflexive cry
The faces we meet, one awkward beat
Too long and terrified
Know the things we need to say
(Sun in an empty room)
Been said already anyway
(Sun in an empty room)
By parallelograms of light
(Sun in an empty room)
On walls that we repainted white
(Sun in an empty room)
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Sun in an empty room
Take eight minutes and divide
(Sun in an empty room)
By ninety million lonely miles
(Sun in an empty room)
And watch his shadow cross the floor
(Sun in an empty room)
We don't live here anymore
(Sun in an empty room)
Lyrics submitted by leahleahleahleah, edited by hemingwayhero, tbc
Sun in an Empty Room Lyrics as written by Jason Tait John K Samson
Lyrics © MOTHERSHIP MUSIC PUBLISHING
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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The funny thing is that the lyrics to all weakerthans songs are on their website, and the lyrics here have several mistakes in them. These are the official lyrics: Now that the furniture's returning to its Goodwill home, with dishes in last week's papers–rumours and elections, crosswords, an unending war–that blacken our fingers, smear their prints on every door pulled shut. Now that the last month's rent is scheming with the damage deposit, take this moment to decide if we meant it, if we tried, or felt around for far too much from things that accidentally touched. The hands that we nearly hold with pennies for the GST, the shoulders we lean our shoulders into on the subway, mutter an apology. The shins that we kick beneath the table, that reflexive cry. The faces we meet one awkward beat too long and terrify, know that the things we need to say have been said already anyway, by parallelograms of light on walls that we repainted white. So take eight minutes and divide by ninety million lonely miles, and watch a shadow cross the floor. We don't live here anymore.