I wrote this song in November, 1985, in Olympia, WA, two months after starting my first year as a student at The Evergreen State College. I was older than most first-year students, 22, in fact. As such, I decided to live off campus and rented an apartment in downtown Olympia. First-year students at Evergreen enroll in a "core program" and all of your studies fall within that program. My program was called Human Development, designed for people interested in pursuing a career in education, social services, psychology, or really anything that involved helping others. As part of our studies, our teachers encouraged us to get together to support and learn from each other. And given a number of the students I met lived on campus, coming to my apartment for dinner or to hang out was a fun thing to do or, perhaps, a novelty.
In November, I invited a young woman named Michelle to come over. She was 18, straight out of high school. I remember her as being quiet and artistic, super intelligent but the kind of intelligence the standard public high school is not going to recognize or encourage. Anyway, I listened to her tell me about a fading high school romance in which her boyfriend sounded like a bit of a jerk. While nothing remotely romantic happened between us, I felt an attraction, but her age made her seem too young. At the risk of sounding a bit creepy, I remember that she smelled good and had beautiful long brown hair (every time I hear the Tom Waits song "Burma Shave" and the line "and her hair spilled out like root beer," I think of Michelle). After I drove her back to campus, I came home to my apartment and wrote this song.
PERFECT MATCH
You held me in your gaze...
I saw the fire in your eyes and a history of abuse.
I saw the fire in your eyes, your body as the dynamite, your lips hold the kiss of a fuse.
Now I'm walking the high wire with no safety net to catch.
And I like to play with fire...
Don't we make a perfect match?
A perfect match.
Feel free to turn me on...
When I'm plugged in the wall and charged by the current threat.
When I'm plugged in the wall be careful not to overload this emotional outlet.
Now you're walking the high wire with no safety net to catch.
And you like to play with fire...
Don't we make a perfect match?
A perfect match.
We were closed before striking and still hit it off.
And we chose before liking that we'd lit enough.
Will the survivalists be singing the blues if we touch this flame to the fuse?
Can we defuse this bomb...?
Can we walk on the water and make a deal with our God?
Can we walk on the water and bring sight to our eyes through a miraculous bomb squad?
We're still walking the high wire with no safety net to catch.
And we like to play with fire...
Don't we make a perfect match?
A perfect match.
10 сен 2024
