A brief history of song lyrics I don’t know

In reverse chronological order:

I don’t get really picky about the music that plays in my car, except I prefer oldies, classic rock, pop, and new wave. If I can find a station playing any of those, no matter how much I dislike a particular song, I’ll listen to that station until commercial break. The catch is, lyrics confuse me.

Take for example No Doubt. Their lyrics aren’t particularly complex, right? Wrong. I still couldn’t understand them until my sister tried to persuade me I was wrong. I later received confirmation when I saw the actual lyrics on a karaoke screen.

My version:
“I’m walkin on the spider webs...
No matter who calls,
I scream my balls off!”

These lyrics made sense to me for two reasons. For one, she was as wild and predatory as a spider, crawling across her web sinisterly. I thought this fit her image as “not just a girl.” “I scream my balls off” meant that she was tired of distracting or irritating phone calls. No matter who called her, she was frustrated by the ringing phone because it intruded on her predatory spider-webbing. Brilliant lyrics to sing along with in the car because I liked screaming my balls off too.

My illusions about her bad-ass-ness were shattered when my friend sang along to the verses on the karaoke monitor:

“I’m walking into spider webs...
No matter who calls,
I screen my phone calls!”

Screening phone calls? Walking into spider webs? That’s passive. That’s avoidance. That’s not proactive screaming and crawling, it’s nuisance stalker evasion. Lame-o. Totally disappointed in that No Doubt chick.

Now rewind to a classic rock Eric Clapton staple that confused me (until last Sunday, amazingly).

“Won’t you be my four-legged woman?
I’ll try to be your four-letter man…
Rebel man, rebel man, rebel man.”

I always wondered about the animal reference to four-legged-ness, and I wondered why he wanted to be a letter-jacket jock—that’s so high school lame. And then rebel man? How can he be a letter-jacket varsity jock and be a rebel man? And why does he want to be a varsity rebel to her animal-ness? I sang along anyway, thinking classic-rockers got to take poetic license that regular people didn’t have to understand.

Last Sunday, I was playing a radio really quietly while I worked, just to have a little company while I was alone in the library. “Rebel Man” came on the radio. With the volume way down, I suddenly heard, “forever woman,” "forever man.” Mind opening. Still a pedestrian and lame song, but at least I know what it means now.

“Won’t you be my forever woman?
I’ll try to be your forever man,
Try to be your forever man.
Forever man, forever man, forever man.”

More wacky Christine-isms later. I’ve still got two more gems.