"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.
Fucked on the gurney 'til you're black and blue,
by beheaded banshees who cackle and coo.
Who'd let a medic of blasphemous birth
flavor his meat with the salt of the earth?
Cannons and hymnals condemn you to die,
and oh how the acolytes sing?
"Lay them on the lawn like dead virgins.
Goddess of the grove we praise thee.
Gloria.
For every one of our sisters tortured
a thousand of their sons will burn."
Fist through your gums like a five fingered kiss.
A sad toothless suitor in post coital bliss.
Roll up that dollar, and powder your nose,
you'll show up like semen on dark colored clothes.
Forceps and scalpel make a mockery of flesh,
and oh how the acolytes sing?
They're pointing, laughing, while he begs
his tormentors for just one taste
of that wicked honey between her legs,
before it goes away,
and she goes away.
by beheaded banshees who cackle and coo.
Who'd let a medic of blasphemous birth
flavor his meat with the salt of the earth?
Cannons and hymnals condemn you to die,
and oh how the acolytes sing?
"Lay them on the lawn like dead virgins.
Goddess of the grove we praise thee.
Gloria.
For every one of our sisters tortured
a thousand of their sons will burn."
Fist through your gums like a five fingered kiss.
A sad toothless suitor in post coital bliss.
Roll up that dollar, and powder your nose,
you'll show up like semen on dark colored clothes.
Forceps and scalpel make a mockery of flesh,
and oh how the acolytes sing?
They're pointing, laughing, while he begs
his tormentors for just one taste
of that wicked honey between her legs,
before it goes away,
and she goes away.
Lyrics submitted by cornswagie
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Fast Car
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