In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
A line of strands to mark the trail
No one said it would be easy
I must admit
I thought that risk was better waged in younger seasons
But all these years in the cold, play hell on my throat
'Til everything I say burns like cinders
Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
In the crease of a strangling winter
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line
Along the way the turns are sharp
No one said they would be easy
I must admit I thought the trip was better made in younger seasons
But all these years in the pursuit made a man of a fool
'Til every word I say is on waver
Well it's hard to belong to a girl
Or a song in the case of a selfish believer
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line
Well it's hard to belong to a girl
Or a song in the case of a selfish believer
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line
And when the path I have made from the grass to the grave
I will love you still
And when the sand turns to glass and all that's left is the past
I will love you still
No one said it would be easy
I must admit
I thought that risk was better waged in younger seasons
But all these years in the cold, play hell on my throat
'Til everything I say burns like cinders
Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
In the crease of a strangling winter
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line
Along the way the turns are sharp
No one said they would be easy
I must admit I thought the trip was better made in younger seasons
But all these years in the pursuit made a man of a fool
'Til every word I say is on waver
Well it's hard to belong to a girl
Or a song in the case of a selfish believer
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line
Well it's hard to belong to a girl
Or a song in the case of a selfish believer
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line
And when the path I have made from the grass to the grave
I will love you still
And when the sand turns to glass and all that's left is the past
I will love you still
Lyrics submitted by CrystalCramps
Hell On The Throat Lyrics as written by Christopher Andrew Carrabba
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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If I got the lyrics wrong anywhere, tell me. I Think I got the "lone in the strings" wrong.
A line of strands to mark the trail,<br /> No one said it would be easy.<br /> I must admit I thought the risk<br /> Was better waged in younger seasons.<br /> But all these years in the cold, play hell on the throat<br /> 'Til everything I say burns like cinders,<br /> <br /> Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song<br /> And the crease of a strangling winter<br /> It's strange to be lost, stranger still to belong<br /> On the strings of a twisting line.<br /> <br /> Along the way the turns are sharp,<br /> No one said they would be easy,<br /> I must admit I thought the trip was better in younger seasons.<br /> But all these years in pursuit<br /> made a man of a fool,<br /> 'Til every word I say is unwaivered<br /> <br /> Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song<br /> And the crease of a strangling winter<br /> It's strange to be lost, stranger still to belong<br /> On the strings of a twisting line.<br /> <br /> And when the path I have made<br /> From the grass to the grave,<br /> I will love you still.<br /> And when the sand turns to glass<br /> And all that's left is the past<br /> And I will love you still.