Recent Journal Entries

  • Lady Luck's cruel prank

    by Marixpress on February 27, 2015

    What to do when the person who nearly destroyed you is the same person that introduced you to many of your favorite songs? Do you avoid listening to them altogether because their meanings have been replaced by nightmares? Seems like a lose-lose either way.

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  • Shout-out to the Motherboard from the Fatherland

    by NomadMonad on February 26, 2015

    It's looking more and more like 3 people writing almost all of the boring journal posts here at Song Meanings under a variety of pseudonyms. 

    However I, Nomad Monad, DEMAND recognition as The Most Boring Writer.

    You'll never touch me so don't even TRY.

    Don't even bother dipping your quill again, you mere drip on the mildewed scroll of antediluvian parchment, you cuneiform Cunégonde, you proto-Canaanite pottery fragment, you keyboarding failed clown and archeological relic unworthy of preservation in a third-rate underfunded Albanian museum... 

    I, and I alone, dragged myself up from the protoplasmic slime to BORE you. 
    I transitioned from amphibian to anthropoid before your mama even MET the postman. I stood upright upon the bloody battleground of evolutionary struggle and SELECTED MYSELF (naturally). Now pass that banana right here. 

                                               Behold: The Missing Link

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  • Kenny Chesney- You and Tequila

    by itssarahann on February 25, 2015
    • I don't think this song is about just addiction or just a bad relationship alone- but rather the two together and how they play a role in the demise of a relationship. I've dated a few guys that thought alcohol and "just one more" gave him power in the relationship, but it destroyed us and drove me crazy knowing it wasn't going to work out like I had originally thought. The alcohol and the two of us together was toxic. It became an endless cycle of substance abuse and emotional abuse, and often wanted just one more night to see if things would change. Also, Hollywood (referencing Mulholland Drive) can make anyone in a relationship very vulnerable- he's talking about that atmosphere and having the opportunity to have that high right in the palm of his hand Unfortunately, I know many people that have had very similar experiences, and he more than likely was drawn to this song because it is a very real thing that he has felt too.

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  • Dead and Gone

    by Kayla416 on February 23, 2015

    I won that fight

    I lost that war

    I could still see my nigga walking out that door

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  • hahaha hah phew

    by RosesAtSunset on February 18, 2015

    i'll begin with a note: hey buggie92, how about you make your own journal instead of writing a patronising novel on mine? i don't see what you being a socially awkward outsider has anything to do with me. i have a lot of good friends, but i have some pretty serious mental issues that i'm dealing with. don't worry, i'm highly functional and i'm quite successful. this is where i write to vent and shriek about my issues because i don't feel comfortable putting the burden on my friends. my problems are something i can only work through with a psychologist. 

    anyway, i don't want anyone's advice and you didn't even give much advice. you just talked about yourself and told me that the way i felt was wrong. so, go ahead and write in your own journal about your issues because i don't care about the experiences that you so passive-aggressively denoted. you're welcome to comment on my journals, but know that nothing you say is of any significance to me.

    this is the only rebuttal i will provide, so i suggest you find someone else to antagonize. 


    today was a good day. my dog and i merrily crunched along the snowed-in path that curled through the park. i walked through clouds of my breath and ran my tongue over my cracked lips futilely. this would be a good time to wish for a different season, but i like the cold. i like the way my fingertips sting and my eyes water from glacial breezes. i don't need the summer air. i like it when the outside matches my inside. i should be sad because i have an incurable mental disorder, but i don't want to listen to drivel about potentialities anymore.

    i'm not happy to be sick, but it's not sick to be happy.

    i break off a piece of fruit for my dog and his eyes light up as he hops to catch it in his mouth. i watch him engulf the fruit and then stare up at me with his sweet puppy eyes. i like the simple life. one day i'll visit europe and join a glass-blowing class. but today my hobby is eating apples with my dog.

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  • He Is We #1

    by roblovesheiswe on February 10, 2015

    this is my first entry. much wow.
    today, i just made this account for songmeanings and i so wanna tell other people the meanings behind he is we's beautiful songs. rachel taylor is a very inspiring singer and i don't know why some people say that she changed for the worst just because she got tattoos and piercings and a haircut. i think she's beautiful the way she is. she's being herself. that's enough for being a wonderful and inspiring person. i wish the world would listen to her songs and her songs with the band. :>

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  • Five.

    by freckled on February 09, 2015

    When I cracked the code, he said 

    "Clever girl."

    And my smile was smug as July.

    Meanwhile, my friend Cynth slunk her way over and asked to talk to me privately. 

    "I saw Aaaaaron at the race today, and he saw me, and I don't think I can-" I counted to five before I cut her off. I had work to do. There was a time when Cynth's drama was an addicting distraction therapy for me. But the girl has the emotional complexity of a gum wrapper. As do the guys she slurps up. Except Andy who genuinely scared me as he was the type of guy who could talk to you into shaving off your own eyebrows.  

    There's another girl who also works at ITS who I'm actually interested in befriending. She has eyes like a cat that were beginning to twitch when Cynth queued up The Disney Movie Compilation station on Pandora for the 4th day in a row.  She commented on my Trent Reznor tshirt and said "you're okay." and I was like, "yeah I'm okay. I'm excellent. I'm the best motherfucking coder in this business." I didn't say it out loud, but I liked that I earned her respect. My job makes me simmer. 

    Shout when you wanna get off the ride. 

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  • the bedtime reds

    by luckybamboo on February 08, 2015

    everything is so far from my reach

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  • Fri Feb 6 12:46 PM

    by bcrxing on February 06, 2015

    Could I be your everything while simultaneously being nothing?

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  • useless memories & rants from an infidel

    by RosesAtSunset on February 04, 2015

    i'm six and i can't open the mini carton of chocolate milk they gave me to go with the unsalted popcorn. it's movie night at the shitty public school in the low-income neighbourhood we lived in when we first immigrated to canada. i struggle for a little longer until a kind-eyed chaperone takes the carton from me, turns it around, and opens the spout from the correct side. i think the movie was tarzan but i remember more about the milk carton than i do about the film. most of my childhood was pretty sad and lonely but i really liked that memory of someone picking up my problem, turning it around, and fixing it for me.

    sometimes i think i'm permanenty damaged because of all the excess cortisol that i've experienced over the years. i think i'm to blame because i don't relate well to people - i don't like myself, so how can i even begin to like anyone else? most of my relationships were based on my idealized perception of people rather than reality. i don't think i can call myself lonely if there's nobody i long to talk to. i'm writing here because i like to and i feel like it's a way for me to communicate with people without actually having to give a shit about anything they say. no, i completely understand that i'm kind of a selfish, ego-centric person but, after pretending to be a nice person all day, it's nice to take off the mask and be real. 

    mostly i crave non-existence because i feel like a malfunctioning product waiting to be replaced. i don't care about religion. in fact, i feel offended when people to tell me to trust in god. when you look at it from my nihilistic perspective, you might be able to understand that the idea of believing in some omnipotent deity "that knows best" is insulting.

    i've always had trouble bowing to authority and i have even more trouble praying to some imaginary thing that supposedly made up a bunch of rules for me to follow (mostly concerned with what i do with my vagina) because otherwise i'll go to hell where i'll suffer for all of eternity. it's actually hilarious when you think about it. it's like a group of toddlers got together and decided to write a rule book, "follow these rules and you'll get to go to the bestest place forever, but if you don't you go the worstest place ever!" what a joke. i went to a catholic school and i'm friends with some religious people so, of course, i'm perfectly accepting of their beliefs and i would never tell them that i secretly think they're really stupid. 

    at least i know who to call if i ever feel like recruiting for a pyramid scheme.

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  • Ret's best friend

    by Been Seen on February 03, 2015

    The drunken thoughtlessness of an evening can seem so easily appealing. So easily achieved. Mistakes, oh mistakes, never have I made such conscious mistakes.


    After a bottle of wine, maybe a few more. The music was suited, intense then changing. Light hearted. I said “Lets swim!” and promptly undressed myself, you didn’t hesitate either and soon we were diving, swimming until there was nothing. Until you were nothing, until they were nothing. All I could do was swim, as if my life depended on it. I liked the burning, the too cold summer water swishing past my ears, filling the gaps between my fingers.


    Your voice pulled me back, slashing through my head, “Get out of the fucking water, are you mad? It is freezing.”


    Eyes blood shot, chlorine induced, someones shirt wrapped tightly around my shoulders. Scrabble came next. Then Lee got sick, crying, she needed to be warm and in bed. “Here drink this, its water, you’ll be just fine, I love you too..” Scrabble continued. We continued. Glimpses, and me secretly hoping that you saw as I looked away.


    More wine. I need to pee, ended up swigging Ret’s whisky in the bathroom. It’s not ok. Burns the back of my throat, as the tears sting my eyes. This is ok. New dose of bravery.


    The grass outside and a newly lit cigar. Counting 1 2 3.. GO! nothing. Mike leaves. Right, this is what I wanted, it’s what I had hoped of this evening, conscious.


    You won’t stop saying my name, eventually I don’t know whether you’re crying or laughing. Kissing. Under the blanket of this conscious mistake I so wilfully made. Stop stop stop. No, sweaty palms on my back, my shoulders, my tummy, my  neck. Teeth, grazes, grass burns.


    “Get up, let us go inside, it’s raining, Ret might come out?” Stumbling you get up, curling your toes over the edge, unconsciously wrapping my arms around your waist, you pissing. Embarrassed I go inside on my own.


    “You’re crying? Why? Please stop, please please please” Wrapping your body around me, you’re not breathing. I’m still too drunk to make a sense of realisation. 


    Tremmor. Clutching your sweaty palms. Realisation. Run. “Ret! Wake up. He’s not breathing.” Run. Ret places one hard ‘WACK!’ across your chest. Breath. “Let’s go Bro, time for bed”


    Climb into my conscious mistake. Have sex with Ret. Wake up 5am. Facing a shitty headache.


    I don’t feel terrible, should I?


    I feel ok. Please remember. Don’t remember.


    “Like you said, nothing happened. Ret’s like a brother to me, and I know you love him, we can’t ruin that.”


    Please ruin it, my life oh please do.


    Stop it!

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  • hopeless & awkward & desperate for love

    by CleanLaundry on January 30, 2015

    although I'm not entirely sure why, I think I needed a hiatus from writing, so I decided to take an internship on an organic farm in the woods. ftr, I study lit and stuff. I'm no agroecologist and have a pathetic lack of green thumb, but for some reason whenever I try to fall asleep at night after long day on the farm, I toss and turn because I know a part of my soul stays there when I leave. there are tree orchards everywhere, soil to saturate with carbon and secrets (I've been informed it's nutritious for the plants), and no limit to free vegitables. today I sat for a fucking hour watching bees pollinate mustard seed flowers. the gal that showed me the ropes told me her name was "river" and I accidentally rolled my eyes and I sad, "like phoenix?" and then she rolled her eyes, and said "I'm just messin, it's actually kelly." Kelly is like the real life version of one of the girls from harvest moon: plaid shirts, braided crowns, chai tea in mason jars,  smells perpetually like orange blossoms, which drives me crazy, because they aren't even in season. I mean she's more than a trope, I'm sorry. everyone is more than a trope. I happen to know that she has thing goin with one of my good friends and that she gives rides to drunk strangers. as she works she sings to the kale crops and the brocoli and the cabbage. the other day, I brought out a stereo and a bunch of cds. I'm going to do this science experiment, grade school style, in which I play different genres of music for different pots of the same plant and measure their growth. currently, I've got some reggae going, some alt rock, some beethoven, some drake, and an old dashboard confessional album which I'm counting as "emo." I've got this scientist thing down pat. there's this other intern named gary, and when I met him, I knew right away what he grew. he asked me if I wanted to buy and I hesitated, because I'm trying to sober up. 

    when I got home today, my housemate was pretty stoned and entranced by a live stream of the vancouver aquarium jellyfish cam. will have to try that at some point, maybe in my british canon poetry class where I sit in the back row for two hours and try to not let my thoughts race eachother to tangles.

    sometimes. I don't know. sometimes I am baffled when girls at parties ask who I like to read, then proceed to interrupt with "wait, do you like bukowski?" what about me do they associate with a dirty old man? I mean I like bukowski a bit, but he also got a lot wrong with life. god, don't get me started on kerouac. I frankly don't understand how a girl can read kerouac and sincerely like him. 

    last week I went to a poetry slam and this guy got up and spat about the lumbersexual aesthetic. I mean hypermasculinity is not a revolutionary topic to write a slam poem about, but what this guy was saying felt like a bear trap clamped around my heart. 

    on the way home we somehow witnessed a huge car accident and had to be interviewed by the cops. in my area the police are utterly asinine and I was scared because a lot of people died, but didn't feel like I could admit this to Lexie who was kneeling on the ground, shivering. when they finally let us off, it was 2 am and I was warm with anger and my retinas were blurring. I carried Lexie home and when she curled into me like a leaf, yeah, I felt pretty manly. I tried not to have bad dreams that night., like the one about the boy I saw on the cover of Newsweek when I was in 5th grade. it was from the Bosnian war and his face had been hit by artillery fire, and it was mangled and his eyes were obliterated and his nose was gone, and his mouth was a slant. when I wake up from those dreams, my nose is always burning with that smoke that signals that you're going to cry. how many times I've extracted myself from a girl sleeping beside me and sat on the toilet in the bathroom, breathing hard.

    I don't know if I even feel like posting this anymore. I was okay when I started writing and now I'm in a shit mood. like, woe is fucking me. here is your Tinder date, sipping craft beer at an underground bar with sad eyes, a hyperpermasculinety complex and an unrealised dream of living in an isolated woodland shack. congratulations. you're dating the reincarnate of henry david thoroeu.

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  • deathless

    by artemisagrotera on January 28, 2015

    Taken down


    Ground into dust

    Clawing through sadness

    No strength to feel lust

    I despise feeling numb

    No penalty's worse

    I'll trot out that cliche 

    and climb into this hearse

    Take me somewhere

    So I don't have to care

    I no longer come on command

    I might see the door

    I could maybe forget

    If my body'd obey my hand

    The force of the vortex 

    Threatens to drown

    It's a shame this shell goes to waste

    I wish you were free

    But you're not

    It's too bad

    'cause I just want to give you a taste

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  • Four. I Just Want an Entire Pizza

    by freckled on January 28, 2015

    Have found that the most successful way to maintain a running schedule is to update my workout playlist almost daily. I get bored with music like I get bored with people who listen to Pit Bull or don't vaccinate their children. On days when I have a lot of feelings and need to outrun them, I listen to really dirty Niki Minaj songs, i.e Truffle Butter.

    Mark's birthday is on Friday and I have to make it perfect. Thinking a bonfire on the beach with our friends and some moonshine and then later I'll try to harness my inner Niki Minaj. 

    There are days when I'm perfectly productive and drink like 64 oz of water and do my homework and go to work and go to sleep at 10 pm like a good girl. But those are the days I feel like I'm a permascowl slapped on an empty shell. Whattabore. 

    As Karl Marx once said 

    "We are living in a material world. And I am a material girl" 

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  • Modest Mouse - Coyotes

    by freckled on January 21, 2015

    Coyotes tiptoe in the snow after dark
    At home with the ghosts in the national parks
    Mankind's behavin' like some serial killers
    Giant ol' monsters afraid of the sharks

    And we're in love with all of it
    And we say, "What can we say?"

    Walking with ghosts in the national parks
    Coyotes tiptoe in the snow after dark


    Another branch on the tinder-bound tree
    Birds flying low, looking downwards to feed
    Mankind's behavin' like some serial killers
    Giant ol' monsters afraid of the sharks


    [Bridge] x2
    And we say, "We're in love with all of it"
    And we say, "We're in love with everything"
    And we say, "What can we say?"

    And we say, "We're in love with all of it"
    And we say, "We're in love with everything"
    And we lie, we love to lie

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  • Three.

    by freckled on January 21, 2015

    My boyfriend tries very hard to be political. He is so comfortable before a crowd and I'm am so comfortable within it, making sleepy eyes at the emcee who's been happily dethroned. I knew I knew that guy from somewhere. He used to be so drugged up in French, this emcee, but he was staring at me with the upmost lucidity and my heart began to BEAT.

    Five shots of cinnamon whiskey + one party hop + two Purity Ring songs and we were both sweating hard. People and their warm boozy breaths down my neck, sent me lunging for a window in the bodies, which revealed S leaning in close to that girl from the city hall internship and I felt a slight twinge between my eyes, but not much other than that. Emcee was pleasantly sober, and pleasantly, pleasant? And he was giving me the look look and backing up. Backing up into a bedroom, and then into a bathroom. I followed, like a dog, delightfullly dizzy and all sorts of other appropriate alliterations. Anyway that's how I found myself dancing to purity ring in someone's shower in my underwear. ,He tentatively put his hands on my waist and tried not to shiver because I was hogging most of the water, because I am inherently selfesh. That is why my boyfriend was snogging that girl from the city hall. That is why the Ssssssssss key on my keyboard is broken and I have to hit it 20 times. 

    Me and emceee boy are hanging out tomorrow whoot whoot. And I'm like, Walking with ghosts in the national parks / Coyotes tiptoe in the snow after dark

    Oh, there was something else I was thinking about a lot. I go to a very conservative school. I'm not a slut. My visa is expiring in January of next year. Sigh. 

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  • i am the quietness and the quietness is me

    by aberforth on January 17, 2015

    I'm having trouble with friendships. They are odd and difficult to maintain. I always have to be outgoing and witty and funny, and basically everything at once. When I am with myself, there are no expectations for me to reach and take a hold of with thin hands. And I feel like my friends and I skim the surface of what a friendship should be like. It's always just  jokes and crude humour and bitchiness ( I hate using this word, but it's true) and hate, but nothing more. My psychologist says I need more intellectually stimulating friends, but I just can't find any. And maybe there are some shy kids waiting for me to come over to them, but I hate being the one to make the move. It's nervewracking and scary, and I think that I might weird them out. So I think it's better for me not to try, otherwise I will hurt myself.

    I hate being a teenager sometimes. You have to struggle to find who you are, and I think I have a clear idea of who I am, though I cannot describe myself in a mere number of words. I think that's why you know who you are ; when you jus can't define youself because there is so much more to you than smart or funny or beautiful. There are words that haven't been invented that you can use to define yourself, but there are feelings and senses because there are limits to words and numbers but there are not limits to emotions and thoughts.

    But my real problem is, is that everyone my age is trying to find themselves in this great big world while I already have (I think).

    At first, I used to ge frustrated at myself for changing whenever I hung out with other people. I think there are more sides to me than a six sided dice, and the most important thing is how you deal with that. How you deal with the fact that you are not a constant, but a variable.

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  • More than - Part 5 of Chapter 1

    by Bellabel2603 on January 13, 2015

    Hi everyone! Sorry I didn't post any entry in awhile, but was truly busy with everything especially now its a new year, it busy busy busy. Now I give you------


    Part 5 of Chapter 1 - More than


    Doing laundry, the clock strike 11.45am as I hang the last shirt on the string. The weather is just perfect – sunny and bright, sky so blue. Wind blow my untidy hair and I breathe deep, so calm and makes me feel alive somehow. It’s been awhile since I went outside the house, especially my house. After Mile passed away, all I did was just lock myself from the world. The feeling that I have for Miles will never disappear so easily, he was the only person show and made me feel what love was all about. Only god knows, truly how my heart ache calling for Miles to come back.


    I went back inside the house and straight into my room carrying the empty laundry basket, looking at every room as I walk pass by and everything was already clean, arrange in order. Change into my dress – pink and short, wear my flat shoes – red with a tiny ribbon on the side, I pull my blouse out from the luggage, got my handbag and put the money along with the grocery list inside my bag.


    Approach the door, there was a tiny wooden table, a bowl full of keys and a note stick to one of it.


    Dear Jessie,


    This is my car key, if you go out please just use my car and attach to it is the house key. Take good care of my car, if there’s extra grocery money and enough time please send it to the car wash.




    I thought to myself of how can someone kind hearted as Mary would easily be cheated, worst that I’m the person who wreck her life. God, I’m a real fool. I wish I can just go to my parents and explain everything, but now not only I lost Miles but I also lost just about everyone in my life. I can’t even pick up a phone to say a simple ‘Hello’ to mother. Again before I open the door, I look at everything making sure nothing is wrong. Nod my head gladly, close the door and lock it.  Mary’s car was a yellow Volkswagen beetle, what made me happy is it’s one of the car where you can open the rooftop.


    It made me remember the time when Mile got a car for his birthday – a Black Mustang. The roof was seal not even a sun-roof and he knew how much I love an open roof, so he got it modified just so that I can be happy with my hair dance freely every time he would speed the car. The wonderful thing is that he would do just about anything to make me happy and truly, I miss the things that he do to make me smile and the things he would say to make it alright.


    Driving slowly, I look to my left and right. “Where am I exactly?” I ask myself – confuse. Just have to drive around until I find a store or anything really. A few minutes driving afterwards, I reach town – small, but loud, very loud that you can turn this town into a club. The sound of people honking their cars – not like there’s a traffic, but really just a sign of Hello. Went around and around, till I can find just a small grocery shop would do me go. I’m trying to avoid going to supermarkets at the moment, might end up bump into someone I know – might.


    Finally just the perfect small shop, I think I can get as much as I need to from this list. I can go straight home and take a few hour sleep before Mary and Tommy gets back, I’m sure they will ask me to do a lot of things, especially Tommy.

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  • Crystal Skies - Fall a thousand times.

    by Rackius Sweetbutt. on January 12, 2015 Fall a thousand times.

    Could you ever believe me if I said
    I would fall down a thousand times
    Oooh, I all for you
    Do you understand me
    When I said I'm sorry I made you feel that way
    Darling, if there's time to turn away 
    I could change your mind
    To assure you this is real!

    [Electronic vibes]

    I'd do anything for you!
    I'd do anything for you!
    I'd do anything for you!
    If there's a light in this soul
    See deep through my soul
    I know that you feel it too,
    You're thinking replace you
    I'm sorry I'm such a mess
    I promise I would stay,
    I know that you should be forgive me
    And I'm sorry!

    You could save the world
    You could save the world
    You could save the world
    I'd do anything for you!
    Anything for you!
    There is hope in us,
    I believe that we could,
    I still love you!

    I'm sorry
    If there is anything I can do for you?!
    To show you this is real!
    Anything for you!.

    by Crystal Skies feat. Ashley Apollodor.

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  • Two.

    by freckled on January 11, 2015

    I went grocery shopping today and bought rice and lipstick. I walked around with Mark's watch strapped to my wrist. The afternoon sun was hot and made the leather band stick to my skin. It took me forever to fix it, but now it's ticking properly again. Maybe I'll give it back to him as a peace offering.

    I learned something this weekend. There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who walk into a room and say ‘Here I am’ and those who walk into a room and say, ‘There you are.” I read that in a book, I think. But this weekend was the first time I believed it.

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