Hard Sock Dance
Quincy Jones Lyrics


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Spend your days just working and shopping
Depending on how much your luck is in
Spend your night-life table-hogging
And trying to keep that bag-of-bones in trim

I don't mind not feeling immortal
'Cos it ain't all that as far as I can tell
I don't mind not going to Heaven
As long as they've got cigarettes
As long as they've got cigarettes in Hell

By the time we start getting used to
The dope that's forming on the windowsill
Now we know we've got ourselves into
The cage that keeps the mice on the treadmill

I don't mind not feeling immortal
'Cos it ain't all that as far as I can tell
I don't mind not going to Heaven
As long as they've got cigarettes
As long as they've got cigarettes in Hell

I don't mind not feeling immortal
'Cos it ain't all that as far as I can tell
And I don't mind not going to Heaven




As long as they've got cigarettes
As long as they've got cigarettes in Hell

Overall Meaning

In this song, Quincy Jones is lamenting the mundane routine of everyday life. The singer discusses how people spend their days working and shopping, hoping that luck will be on their side. At night, people go out to socialize, perhaps overindulging in food and drink in order to maintain an attractive appearance. Jones highlights the fact that life is not eternal, and no one is immortal. He dismisses the idea of heaven as something he doesn't particularly care about, but he desires to have cigarettes in hell.


The song delves into a feeling of ennui and dissatisfaction with the human experience. Life feels like a hamster wheel that we cannot escape from, regardless of how hard we try. We become accustomed to the routine, the equivalent of a drug that makes us forget that there is more to life than what we are doing. At this point, it becomes easier to accept our fate, to shrug our shoulders and say, "I don't mind not feeling immortal." Instead, we pursue some form of pleasure, whether it be smoking cigarettes or engaging in any other behavior that makes life more bearable.


Overall, this song is about how easily we become disconnected from what makes life worthwhile. We settle for things that are not sufficient, and we make ourselves numb so that we don't have to feel the disappointment that comes with realizing that life is not what we thought it would be.


Line by Line Meaning

Spend your days just working and shopping
Most of one's time is spent engaging in the mundane activities of working and shopping.


Depending on how much your luck is in
The amount of success or good fortune one experiences is dependent on chance.


Spend your night-life table-hogging
One spends their evenings attempting to secure a prime location in a social setting.


And trying to keep that bag-of-bones in trim
Efforts are made to maintain one's physical appearance and health, despite the inevitability of aging and degradation of the body.


I don't mind not feeling immortal
The idea of living forever or being a god-like being does not appeal to me.


'Cos it ain't all that as far as I can tell
This concept is not as great or satisfying as some may imagine it to be, in my opinion.


I don't mind not going to Heaven
The prospect of going to a paradise after death does not hold as much significance or desirability to me.


As long as they've got cigarettes
However, if access to cigarettes is available to me, heaven or the afterlife is not as important.


As long as they've got cigarettes in Hell
In fact, cigarettes are so important that even if I end up in hell after death, as long as I can smoke, it won't be too bad.


By the time we start getting used to
Once we become accustomed to a particular aspect of life, it eventually becomes a routine or the norm.


The dope that's forming on the windowsill
This refers to a substance, likely marijuana, that is frequently used and stored on the windowsill.


Now we know we've got ourselves into
Once we reach this point, we become aware that we have entangled ourselves in a difficult situation.


The cage that keeps the mice on the treadmill
Our lifestyle and choices have entrapped us in a vicious cycle, similar to mice who spin on a treadmill endlessly.




Writer(s): Quincy Jones Copyright: Silhouette Music Corp.

Contributed by Sarah I. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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