Lyrics
The year is 1985
Fashion has no survivors
Woke up and teased my hair four stories tall
One can of hairspray holding up it all
Sorry, ozone layer, that one's on me
My bangs needed structural integrity
My jeans got washed in acid rain
My collar's popped, I can't explain
My jacket says it's Members Only, bro
Membership to what? We may never know
We were neon, we were loud
Visible from space and proud
NASA called, they tracked my fit
From orbit, yeah, we glow a bit
Shoulder pads! (Built like a linebacker)
Shoulder pads! (Just to mail a letter)
We dressed like the future in fluorescent disgrace
Eighty percent polyester, hundred percent in your face
Shoulder pads! (Doorways fear me)
Shoulder pads! (Sideways entry only)
We were beautiful disasters wrapped in spandex and lace
The eighties never died, it's just hiding in your dad's suitcase
My parachute pants, let's set things straight
They never broke a fall, they just looked great
Leg warmers in July, don't ask me why
My calves were cold? No, my calves were fly
Got a mullet like a mission statement
Business in the front, party in the basement
Every photograph's a crime report
My prom picture's evidence in court
We were velcro, we were chrome
Geometric prints on every home
Our windbreakers made a sound
Like a plastic bag fight going down
Shoulder pads! (Built like a linebacker)
Shoulder pads! (Just to mail a letter)
We dressed like the future in fluorescent disgrace
Eighty percent polyester, hundred percent in your face
Jelly shoes in the rain, bad idea
Fingerless gloves protect nothing
Fanny pack locked and loaded
Scrunchie count critical overload
Initiating perm sequence
Error, too much volume
Too much volume
Shoulder pads! (Wider than my future)
Shoulder pads! (Insured by State Farm)
We dressed like the future in fluorescent disgrace
A hundred percent committed, zero percent good taste
Shoulder pads! (My silhouette's a triangle)
Shoulder pads! (Geometry made wearable)
We were beautiful disasters and we'd do it all again
Don't act like you're above it, check your closet, my friend
The eighties never died
They're just vintage now
You paid ninety dollars
For my old windbreaker