Lyrics The Moshing Floor - Steve Taylor

The Moshing Floor

Pendleton elbows
Stick in my craw
Old Doc Marten
He made me say «aaaaw»
Deck your best partner
Lasses or lads
Don’t you feel lucky
In your knee pads
On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever
On the moshing floor
Whatever, whatever
Whatever stage, whatever floor
Hangtime, hangtime
And it’s 1, 2, 3, 4
What are we dying for?
No guru
No mother
No method
No smile
Nice style
Bad form
Is the body still warm?
I wanna see you blink
Shrinks in lab coats
Huddle in the back
Whatcha blaming me for?
I’m just the soundtrack
All you baby boomers
Feigning dismay
You hired the nanny
You faked her resume
I wanna do that crawl
Malls and religion
Build the new forts
Jesus is a franchise
In their food courts
Who needs commitment?
You gargle, then spit
Just like the home team
In the moshing pit
(Notes and Interpretations)
The moshing floor is the landing pad for stage divers.
It’s also a metaphor for
the end of the 20th Century, where the only action is reaction («whatever,
whatever»), and all commitment to principles gets lost in the free fall.
— Steve