High 5 Songtext
von Beck

High five, high five...
Come on, 8, everybody.
Come on now, 7, 6, 5, huh.
Gimme five, oh yeah, I like that shit.
Gimme five, gimme five, no jive, gimme five.

When I arrive like a high five,
Or a slap in the face, I love the taste.
All my days with my wheelchair ways,
Watch me glide in my suicide high.
I don′t mean to cause a holy commotion,
When I step to the room with a powerful motion.
Leopard-skin, let the record spin
Round and round with the speed of sound.

High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from the Catskills.
High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin′ the plastic like a man from the Catskills.


Rocky mountain low, we got to go.
Put that casket in a random mode.
Purple candy, rocking the Tandy,
Rhumba bloodshot, doing the foxtrot.
In my car sweating like a dog,
Beers and tears, new frontiers.
On my way from the 'Frisco Bay,
Dixieland, soda pop man.

High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from the Catskills.
High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin′ the plastic like a man from the Catskills.

Yeah, put that machine in the Latin mode.
Talkin′ about poppin' tacos, back-back in the last century.
Turn that shit off, man!
What′s wrong with you, man?
Get the other record. Damn.

High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from the Catskills.
High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin′ the plastic like a man from the Catskills.

High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from the Catskills.
High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin′ the plastic like a man from the Catskills.


Okay now, do you like designer jeans?
Everybody say-say-say "ooh, la-la, Sassoon"!
Come on, come on, come on, one more time.
Let me hear you say "ooh, la-la, Sassoon".
Now all the ladies, all the ladies say "Sergio Valente".
Sing it, girl!
Let me hear you say "Sergio Valente".
Jordache, turn it out!