Oh, Bon Jovi, here we are yet again, you rock geniuses you. I just realized that it’s either irony or prophetic that I recorded this song as many times as I did. At the time I recorded this song, I didn’t really understand most of the lyrics besides the chorus, so I didn’t really get that the main thrust of this song was that the girl you were singing to was like an addictive drug. That she was irresistible and destructive all at the same time. It’s too bad I didn’t get that at the time, because I would have been fascinated with the whole idea of a girl like that. The point being, Bon Jovi, that I was addicted, too. Addicted to this song. Every time I’d hear those opening guitar chords, there was that hunger to turn up the radio that you only get with certain songs. I loved a lot of songs in those days, but there were a chosen few that made you stop what you were doing and wait until that song was done playing. This was one of those songs for me, Bon Jovi. And while I don’t get that same gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach like I did back in the day when this song came on, I remember it quite well. There’s something bittersweet about that feeling. It’s that same pang as any addiction, whether it’s booze, drugs, or that certain woman. It’s a relief when you get to the other side of whatever hold they had on you, but every once in a while you wouldn’t mind just one more disastrous taste.
“Bad Medicine”
Your love is like bad medicine
Bad medicine is what I need
Whoa oh oh
Shake it up just like bad medicine
There ain’t no doctor that can cure my disease
Bad medicine
I ain’t got a fever, got a permanent disease
And it’ll take more than a doctor to prescribe a remedy
I got lots’a money but it isn’t what I need
Gonna take more than a shot to get this poison outta me
Yeah, I got all the symptoms, count ‘em, one, two, three
First ya need (That’s what you get for fallin’ in love)
Then you bleed (You get a little and it’s never enough)
And when you’re on your knees (That’s what you get for fallin’ in love)
Now this boy’s addicted ’cause your kiss is the drug
Whoa oh oh
Your love is like bad medicine
Bad medicine is what I need
Whoa oh oh
Shake it up just like bad medicine
There ain’t no doctor that can cure my disease
Baaaad, baaaaad medicine
I don’t need no needle to be givin’ me a thrill
And I don’t need no anesthesia or a nurse to bring a pill
I got a dirty down addiction
That doesn’t leave a track
I got a jolt for your affection like a monkey on my back
There ain’t no paramedic gonna save this heart attack
When ya need (That’s what you get for fallin’ in love)
Then you bleed (You get a little and it’s never enough)
And when you’re on your knees (That’s what you get for fallin’ in love)
Now this boy’s addicted ’cause your kiss is the drug
Whoa oh oh
Your love is like bad medicine
Bad medicine is what I need
Whoa oh oh
Shake it up just like bad medicine
So let’s play doctor, baby, cure my disease
Baaaaad, baaaaad medicine
Is what I want
Baaaaad, baaaaad medicine
Ow! It’s what I need
<awesome Bon Jovi jam>
I need a respirator ’cause I’m runnin’ outta breath
Well, you’re an all-night generator wrapped in stockings and a dress
When ya find your medicine, you’ll take what you can get
‘Cause if there’s something better, baby, well they haven’t found it yet
Whoa oh oh
Your love is like bad medicine
Bad medicine is what I need
Whoa oh oh
Shake it up just like bad medicine
There ain’t no doctor that can cure my disease
Your love
Bad medicine
Bad medicine is what I need
Whoa oh oh
Thank you for reminding me that there could be a good side to this song, that someone could hear it and feel something completely different than the creeping sensations it triggers at the base of my spine.
“Bad Medicine” was the favorite song of a girl I knew around 12th grade who forever bent my innocence when she explained why: her new step father had the hots for her. He liked to play the song loudly, watch her dance to it, she said the lyrics were about her. He was constantly touching her in the casual ways that couples do and her eyes shone with a sort of warped sense of pride when she talked about his obsession. No part of her, except her ignorance, was like a teenager, either. She carried herself like a 30-year-old, even dressed and styled her hair like one. I suppose this scored her points and validated his choices somehow. Whenever any of us tried to talk to her about this, she called us immature. When she abruptly moved out of her home, a deep hatred of her mother in her wake, we had our conformation: she had been sleeping with him.
To this day, her name eludes me but her face is burned into my nightmares, bright as her designer lipstick. I try not to wonder whatever became of her, the statistics on these kinds of things usually aren’t kind. The best I can do is rush to change the radio station whenever I hear “Bad Medicine.” Luckily, I have Bon Jovi’s “It’s My Life” to trigger happier thoughts now.
errr…that’s more like child abuse than bad medicine
[...] again that when I was a kid, and this was one of my favoritest of songs (which is why I recorded it repeatedly), I probably didn’t know 75% of the lyrics. And if I hadn’t tracked down the lyrics [...]