LOST recaps and filksongs, with links to the songs that inspired them; non-LOST song lyrics are at bilbopooh.blogspot.com. All are unauthorized, and no infringement is intended; new lyrics © Erin McCarty.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Hoffs-Drawlar (Hotel Caliifornia, Don Felder / Glenn Frey / Don Henley)
Funeral Director: My deepest condolences. Friend or family? Jack: Neither.
- Through the Looking Glass, Part 2
"If you do leave this place, the day may come when you want to return."
- Ben, King of the Castle
On LOST, few relationships are as complicated as the one between Jack and John. While his death brings the doctor to the brink of suicide, he can't even bring himself to identify himself as John's friend. Then again, it's hard to blame him... Here are some musings from Jack at the Hoffs-Drawlar funeral parlor in the third and fourth season finales, to the tune of the Eagles' Hotel California.
Hoffs-Drawlar
Saw your name in the paper.
I had to look twice.
I’d done too much boozing;
Maybe this was the price.
But I wasn’t mistaken.
Sometimes it stings to be right.
I made my mind up as the plane touched down.
I had to end it that night.
As I gazed at the pavement,
About to take the leap,
I felt a fierce inferno and
I heard a crunch and a scream and a beep.
Went to go play the hero
Because that’s what I do.
When I got out of the hospital,
I had to come see you.
I’m here, but I find it hard to mourn ya.
I will not pretend (I will not pretend) that I was your friend.
Sorry you’re dead, but it’s hard for me to mourn ya.
All you brought my life (all you brought my life) was a lot of strife.
You put a knife through Naomi.
I always blamed you for Boone.
You blathered on about a sacrifice...
What a goon!
You set off those explosives,
Scads of C-4.
The Flame was in flames and
The sub was no more.
All the while you insisted
I misunderstood.
You swore that every single thing you’d done was
For the Island’s good.
And when you wearied of telling me not to leave,
You encouraged the tangle of deceit
I went on to weave.
I’m here, but I find it hard to mourn ya.
I will not pretend (I will not pretend) that I was your friend.
Yeah, Jeremy Bentham, it’s hard for me to mourn ya,
With your pseudonym (with your pseudonym) and your vanished vim.
The man here informed me
That nobody else came.
Pathetic. You went out a bitter old man,
All alone and lame.
You said that we were special
And shared one common fate.
I think I might accept that now,
But I’ve found my faith too late.
Who lurks in the shadows?
Am I really seeing Ben,
And can I trust he’ll get me back
To the Island once again?
He once tried to warn me
Of the lesson I would learn:
“If you leave this place, the day may come
When you want to return.”
Hotel California
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