In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
Ah
God, what a mess, on the ladder of success
Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung
Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled
It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom
Elvis in the ground, no way he'll be here tonight
Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function
It beats pickin' cotton or waitin' to be forgotten
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Now the daughters and the sons
Unwillingness to claim us, ya got no warrant to name us
The ones love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest
And visit their graves on holidays at best
The ones love us least are the ones we'll die to please
If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Daughters and the sons
Young, of young, young, young, young
Take it, it's yours, take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours, take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours, take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours, take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours
God, what a mess, on the ladder of success
Where you take one step and miss the whole first rung
Dreams unfulfilled, graduate unskilled
It beats pickin' cotton and waitin' to be forgotten
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
The daughters and the sons
Clean your baby womb, trash that baby boom
Elvis in the ground, no way he'll be here tonight
Income tax deduction, what a hell of a function
It beats pickin' cotton or waitin' to be forgotten
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Now the daughters and the sons
Unwillingness to claim us, ya got no warrant to name us
The ones love us best are the ones we'll lay to rest
And visit their graves on holidays at best
The ones love us least are the ones we'll die to please
If it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Wait on the sons of no one, bastards of young
Daughters and the sons
Young, of young, young, young, young
Take it, it's yours, take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours, take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours, take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours, take it, it's yours
Take it, it's yours
Lyrics submitted by punkynoisething, edited by lhooq27, oski2005, Xeinix, paul839025
Bastards Of Young Lyrics as written by Paul Westerberg
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
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