Blackout
Falcon Lyrics


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All the bottles and the ashes blanket the ground.
The sluts stagger out with their skirts hiked up, right on time now.
I think it's time to go home. Do you wanna go home? (whoa!)
The disco ball is swinging low.

I found my lover on the radio. She sang me songs from a long time ago.

Blackout! Shout it out loud. The Devil's keeping time on the brake pad now.
It's the music on the radio that's taking me home.

When the crowd get's to spinning I can barely hold on.
The liquid trash flows through my veins and I scream the wrong song.
I think I gotta go home. Do you wanna go home? (whoa!)
So, I'll stomp to the beat, yeah I'll stomp to the beat of the, oh.

Oh, it's the garbage on the radio. I should have known.
I should have fucking known.
Blackout! Shout it out loud. The Devil's keeping time on the gas pedal now.
It's the garbage on the radio that's taking home.

These so called hit lists are nothing more that fat fuck lullabies.
Man, I've had better hits on my tongue in the park on Friday nights.
If this is victory, I'd rather listen to defeat tonight.





Am I right?

Overall Meaning

The lyrics of Falcon The's song Blackout describe a night out on the town that has spiraled out of control. All around, there are empty bottles and cigarette ashes covering the ground. Women are staggering out of the bar, their skirts hiked up scandalously. The singer muses that it's probably time to go home, asking their companion if they want to leave as well. In the background, the disco ball is turning low, casting flickering light around the room.


The singer found their lover on the radio, listening to songs from a long time ago. But suddenly, everything goes black as the singer experiences a blackout. They shout it out loud and feel like the devil is keeping time on the brake pad. They realize that it's the music on the radio that's taking them home. As things start to spin and the alcohol courses through their veins, they shout the wrong lyrics to a song. They know that it's time to go home, but they stomp to the beat of the music, feeling a frenetic energy. The singer then reflects on the music on the radio that they should have known was just garbage. They shout again that it's the garbage on the radio that's taking them home.


Overall, the lyrics of Blackout paint a picture of a night out that has gone awry. The singer is struggling to keep control as drugs and alcohol take hold. Despite this, they still feel the energy of the music, even as they acknowledge that the songs on the radio are just garbage.


Line by Line Meaning

All the bottles and the ashes blanket the ground.
Empty bottles and cigarette ashes litter the floor.


The sluts stagger out with their skirts hiked up, right on time now.
Scantily-clad women stumble out of the club as expected.


I think it's time to go home. Do you wanna go home? (whoa!)
It's time to leave, do you want to leave with me?


The disco ball is swinging low.
The shimmering ball above the dance floor is coming to a stop.


I found my lover on the radio. She sang me songs from a long time ago.
The singer discovered love through the music on the radio that reminded him of the past.


Blackout! Shout it out loud. The Devil's keeping time on the brake pad now.
The singer is experiencing a blackout and urges others to acknowledge it. The Devil seems to be in control of the situation.


It's the music on the radio that's taking me home.
The music is the only constant and provides comfort in turbulent times.


When the crowd gets to spinning I can barely hold on.
The chaos of the dancing crowd is overwhelming and difficult to keep up with.


The liquid trash flows through my veins and I scream the wrong song.
Alcohol courses through the singer's body and he sings the wrong lyrics.


I think I gotta go home. Do you wanna go home? (whoa!)
The singer acknowledges the need to leave and asks if others want to leave with him.


So, I'll stomp to the beat, yeah I'll stomp to the beat of the, oh.
The singer will dance to the beat of the music until it's time to leave.


Oh, it's the garbage on the radio. I should have known. I should have fucking known.
The singer realizes the music on the radio is not good and regrets listening to it.


Blackout! Shout it out loud. The Devil's keeping time on the gas pedal now.
The singer experiences another blackout and urges others to acknowledge it. The Devil seems to be operating the vehicle.


It's the garbage on the radio that's taking me home.
Despite the poor quality of the music, it still provides a sense of familiarity and comfort.


These so called hit lists are nothing more that fat fuck lullabies.
The music charts consist of songs that are unimpressive and meaningless.


Man, I've had better hits on my tongue in the park on Friday nights.
The singer has enjoyed better music from impromptu performances in the park than from mainstream hits.


If this is victory, I'd rather listen to defeat tonight.
The singer would rather listen to depressing music than celebrate with the current popular hits.


Am I right?
The singer asks for validation of his opinion on the state of music.




Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Written by: DOUGLAS B RASHEED, PETER RAMIIREZ, ROBERT GUTIERREZ

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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