They livin' it up at the Hotel California He said, "we haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty-nineĪnd still those voices are calling from far away Some dance to remember, some dance to forget How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she calls friends Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)Īny time of year (any time of year) you can find it here Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way 'This could be heaven or this could be Hell Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air True music.On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair The song manages to express so much in so few words. The imagery in the first two verses is just perfect. He shouldn't be dreaming of the future, he should be actively involved with his children's development)īrilliant song. He turns to his spouse and asks "Are you also frightened?" He knows he wants his children to flourish but he is scared that he might raise them the wrong way. Or his kids might do something he doesn't know how to react to. His kids are going to ask things he's not ready to answer.
That's when the father realizes that he is afraid. He is trying to properly raise his child/children.) what movies they watch, what books they read. (kids want to do somethings that they might not be ready for and the parents are wondering if they should let them be "influenced" by certain things. Will it be just like I'm dreaming? (The Father dreaming about how he wants his kids to grow up, to succeed and flourish) Will it just be like they're dreaming? (the kids dreaming about their adventures, future, being grown up) The ghosts came crowding around and then Iįrom our window, two lanterns draw signs on the nightĪnd light our two shadows, I watch with delight If they're awake till the dawn, well we won't With mud they'll make prints on their backs Where we can slip, one takes one by the handĮxcited and screaming, their voices go wildĪnd rise with the birds mating up in the pinesĭown to puddles that breathe, covered by leaves
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