In this context an anthem is "A popular song, especially a rock song felt to sum up the attitudes or feelings associated with a period or social group."
There were numerous "anthems" in my youth that defiantly promoted the virtues of "drugs, sex, and rock and roll."
For years, I wondered about how some of those must feel to their writers/performers later in life.
This lyric is a compilation of about six different false starts at trying to capture that question in a song. IF it's any good, it just proves that ANYTHING can become a song if you just keep at it long enough.
And yeah.... I already know it's too long. ;o)
COCAINE ANTHEM
BRIDGE:
Seemed so very simple back then, -- if it feels good, do it.
Nothing complicated, man -- really nothin to it.
Better too fast than than too damned slow.
Burn a little money on a little bit of blow.
Better too high than way too low.
When it's goin your way, no one tells you where to go.
But yesterday, my daughter’s little boy – six years old you know.
Said “grandpa, I heard a song today, playin on the radio.”
That singer he said “cocaine feels like freedom.”
That singer said that “cocaine’s my best friend.”
That singer said that “cocaine's better than a cool summer rain.”
And then he looked right at me askin, “Grandpa, What’s cocaine?”
Well, I'm really not that sure what I should tell him.
I’m really not that sure what I should say.
Do I tell him that’s his Grampa doin the singing?
Soon enough, he'll find out anyway.
Do I tell him back then I was young and foolish?
Do I tell him back then I was often wrong?
Should I bother tryin to tell him what I’ve learned since then?
Or should I blow it off and tell him “Hey, it’s just a song?”
CHORUS:
Well right about then it all gets complicated.
And you know my heart is beating in my throat.
How do I tell this sweet little boy who trusts me like I’m God
about that damned old Cocaine Anthem that I wrote.
VERSE 2: Three stanzas -
Nothin I can tell him that his Mama doesn't know.
My daughter still remembers what I’m like when I’m on Blow.
Well, I wish I could explain it, but I can’t, cause it’s too wrong.
I chicken out and all I say is “better ask your Mom.”
Now, the oldie’s stations play that song bout a hundred times a day.
It’s like a chicken coming home to roost every time I hear it play.
How will I tell this sweet little boy who means more than life to me.
That his Grandpa ain’t worth listening to, or lookin up to no-sir-ee.
Well, I was in and out of rehab when I wasn’t on the stage.
And his Mama barely knew me until she was past his age.
How do I tell this sweet little boy who means more than life to me.
That his Grandpa ain’t worth listening to, or lookin up to no-sir-ee.
BRIDGE:
Seemed so very simple back then, -- if it feels good, do it.
Nothing complicated, man -- really nothin to it.
Better too fast than than too damned slow.
Burn a little money on a little bit of blow.
Better too high than way too low.
When it's goin your way, no tells you where to go.
But yesterday, my daughter’s little boy – six years old you know.
Said “grandpa, I heard a song today, playin on the radio.”
CHORUS:
Well you know that life can get real complicated.
And sometimes life can hit a sour note.
How do I tell this sweet little boy who trusts me like I'm God
about that damned old Cocaine Anthem that I wrote.
BRIDGE:
Yesterday, my daughter’s little boy – six years old you know.
Said “grandpa, I heard a song today, playin on the radio.”
But How do I tell this little boy who trusts me like I'm God
about that damned old Cocaine Anthem that I wrote?
