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.
Until the hankerchief of history covers us with its
Times new roman black and white post script, I will wear
Lavender shirts in yellow painted public restrooms,
Looking like art decco in my September complexion
And red against blue skies,
And have those pictures taken to be proof
Against the dull mood of your highschool history teacher that we wore color,
That we distributed the seeds of dead dandilions
In the cement surrounded city parts,
That we let our skin soak up the sun despite the advice of modern science,
That we sometimes wore our hair long and let it curl
And never combed it or put it in braids,
That we taught ourselves to play the pots and pans
So that we would have something honest to dance to,
Something soulful to sing to,
And sometimes we had trouble seeing past our own reflections in the bedroom window,
Because it was dark outside,
And the florescents inside left shadows under our chests
And sculpted the torso to look it's Friday night fittest, yeah I'm vain,
There was light here before there wasn't,
And before that there wasn't,
But seagulls still ate shallow water fish,
Morning boys still cast tall shadows
And all the while the stars are slowly separating.
Times new roman black and white post script, I will wear
Lavender shirts in yellow painted public restrooms,
Looking like art decco in my September complexion
And red against blue skies,
And have those pictures taken to be proof
Against the dull mood of your highschool history teacher that we wore color,
That we distributed the seeds of dead dandilions
In the cement surrounded city parts,
That we let our skin soak up the sun despite the advice of modern science,
That we sometimes wore our hair long and let it curl
And never combed it or put it in braids,
That we taught ourselves to play the pots and pans
So that we would have something honest to dance to,
Something soulful to sing to,
And sometimes we had trouble seeing past our own reflections in the bedroom window,
Because it was dark outside,
And the florescents inside left shadows under our chests
And sculpted the torso to look it's Friday night fittest, yeah I'm vain,
There was light here before there wasn't,
And before that there wasn't,
But seagulls still ate shallow water fish,
Morning boys still cast tall shadows
And all the while the stars are slowly separating.
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In la'kesh, I'll hold my breath 'til i'm blue Until the next time I see you . i'm recording the vocals in my underwear Your shit sounds like it was recorded in a hoody on a hot day with a fucking ball-cap, tilted to cover your right eye. You're shit is fake, you're play acting this, this ain't drama class. It's unhealthy, it's only boosting your high polarity
until the hankerchief of history covers us with its times new roman black and white post script, i will wear lavender shirts in yellow painted public restrooms, looking like art decco in my september complexion and red against blue skies, and have those pictures taken to be proof against the dull mood of your highschool history teacher that we wore color, that we distributed the seeds of dead dandilions in the cement surrounded city parts, that we let our skin soak up the sun despite the advice of modern science, that we sometimes wore our hair long and let it curl and never combed it or put it in braids, that we taught ourselves to play the pots and pans so that we would have something honest to dance to, something soulful to sing to, and sometimes we had trouble seeing past our own reflections in the bedroom window, because it was dark outside, and the flourescents inside left shadows under our chests and sculpted the torso to look it's friday night fittest, yeah i'm vain, there was light here before there wasn't, and before that there wasn't, but seagulls still ate shallow water fish, morning boys still cast tall shadows and all the while the stars are slowly seperating.
(I'm not sure of the words to the next part but some of it goes...)
-not sure- I don't know what you expect i just want to hide my face in the space between your breasts
In la'kesh I've got no heart pumping my chest -not sure- and i crave for your flesh
Elizabeth
I don't know what you expect I just want to leave my -not sure- in between your lips
In la'kesh when we meet again i'll say hello you'll say -not sure- and end will be end
These be songs to be listened to after I'm dead When old women start wearing their hair gray These are songs to help an ant to find it's shadow Songs to bump in your moon cruiser 2060, top down, hair blowing in the absence of air. Grooving to the quiet.