Overall about difficult moments of disappointment and vulnerability. Having hope and longing, while remaining optimistic for the future. Encourages the belief that with each new morning there is a chance for things to improve.
The chorus offers a glimmer of optimism and a chance at a resolution and redemption in the future.
Captures the rollercoaster of emotions of feeling lost while loving someone who is not there for you, feeling let down and abandoned while waiting for a lover. Lost with no direction, "Now I'm up in the air with the rain in my hair, Nowhere to go, I can go anywhere"
The bridge shows signs of longing and a plea for companionship. The Lyrics express a desire for authentic connection and the importance of Loving someone just as they are. "Just in passing, I'm not asking. That you be anyone but you”
Sleep as the goer
The bridge that watches the light speed through
And cries while the spirit stumbles
The inside missile for the protection of you
Maybe it's silent
The voice can't bear anymore strain
But speaks without even knowing
And streams outside in the direction of truth
There's no reason there's no secrets to decode
If you can't save it, leave it dying on the road
Wide open arms can feel so cold
So cold
Feel so cold
Balance the books, the ledges, the loons
The disappointed look on the faces
That squint at the moon
Let's see it with shadows enhanced
And then vote to decide who'll advance
Silver jet plane, making a turn
Exciting the brain that expects it to crash and then burn
It's not the life lesson I'd've guessed
If you're conscious you must be depressed
Or at least cynical
But someone might still eat the steaks
Even if they're tough
Spending the day
Chewing the fat
Floating away isn't rough but it's not enough
Oh Marianne, pass me the joint
The sandpaper's tan
Go-getters are surfing the point
And London's a scratch on the lens
It's over before it begins
Silk 'round her neck falls down to her shoulders
The older I get, the more I suspect there's a trick
But really there's no trip at all
That doesn't result in a fall
Or a faltering
But something could spit out the bait
Even if it's real
Rolling away
Missing a spoke
Close to the ground like a wheel but it's not a joke
Holding the line
Clutching the phone
Nobly wasting the night, but it isn't right
It's not right
Smelling for blood
Praying for rain
Running away isn't rough, but it's not enough
The low tide is telling me, when it's over,
To breathe in everything exposed
And comes back to cover me with a blanket
Being here's always changing tunes
The empty sky surrounds me but I can't see at all
Wide open arms can feel so cold
And you can sit beside me and tell me what it's
Worth
But I hope I die before I get sold
I hope I die before I get sold
I'd rather die before I get sold
If you find the soul that you lost
Frozen in a starry void
Take it within and hope the sight of blood
Can will signs of life to return
Back to the way that it was
Long before it made a noise
To keep on quietly reminding you
What's never created or destroyed
Wake as the swell peaks
The close-outs drowning the birds with roars
And howls scare the new unkindness
That picks and laughs at the carrion scene
Forces you see breath can always go into hiding
And wait 'til it passes over
Or stay far gone for all eternity
The bridge that watches the light speed through
And cries while the spirit stumbles
The inside missile for the protection of you
Maybe it's silent
The voice can't bear anymore strain
But speaks without even knowing
And streams outside in the direction of truth
There's no reason there's no secrets to decode
If you can't save it, leave it dying on the road
Wide open arms can feel so cold
So cold
Feel so cold
Balance the books, the ledges, the loons
The disappointed look on the faces
That squint at the moon
Let's see it with shadows enhanced
And then vote to decide who'll advance
Silver jet plane, making a turn
Exciting the brain that expects it to crash and then burn
It's not the life lesson I'd've guessed
If you're conscious you must be depressed
Or at least cynical
But someone might still eat the steaks
Even if they're tough
Spending the day
Chewing the fat
Floating away isn't rough but it's not enough
Oh Marianne, pass me the joint
The sandpaper's tan
Go-getters are surfing the point
And London's a scratch on the lens
It's over before it begins
Silk 'round her neck falls down to her shoulders
The older I get, the more I suspect there's a trick
But really there's no trip at all
That doesn't result in a fall
Or a faltering
But something could spit out the bait
Even if it's real
Rolling away
Missing a spoke
Close to the ground like a wheel but it's not a joke
Holding the line
Clutching the phone
Nobly wasting the night, but it isn't right
It's not right
Smelling for blood
Praying for rain
Running away isn't rough, but it's not enough
The low tide is telling me, when it's over,
To breathe in everything exposed
And comes back to cover me with a blanket
Being here's always changing tunes
The empty sky surrounds me but I can't see at all
Wide open arms can feel so cold
And you can sit beside me and tell me what it's
Worth
But I hope I die before I get sold
I hope I die before I get sold
I'd rather die before I get sold
If you find the soul that you lost
Frozen in a starry void
Take it within and hope the sight of blood
Can will signs of life to return
Back to the way that it was
Long before it made a noise
To keep on quietly reminding you
What's never created or destroyed
Wake as the swell peaks
The close-outs drowning the birds with roars
And howls scare the new unkindness
That picks and laughs at the carrion scene
Forces you see breath can always go into hiding
And wait 'til it passes over
Or stay far gone for all eternity
Lyrics submitted by afternoontara, edited by jdprod20
Siberian Breaks Lyrics as written by Benjamin Nicholas Hunter Goldwasser Andrew Wells Vanwyngarden
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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I don't think it's necessarily about sex. It's about wanting to start the day with some love and affection. Maybe a warm cuddle. I'm not alone in interpreting it that way! For example:
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Page
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There aren’t many things that’ll hurt more than giving love a chance against your better judgement only to have your heart crushed yet again. Ed Sheeran tells such a story on “Page.” On this track, he is devastated to have lost his lover and even more saddened by the feeling that he may never move on from this.
Plastic Bag
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Ed Sheeran
“Plastic Bag” is a song about searching for an escape from personal problems and hoping to find it in the lively atmosphere of a Saturday night party. Ed Sheeran tells the story of his friend and the myriad of troubles he is going through. Unable to find any solutions, this friend seeks a last resort in a party and the vanity that comes with it.
“I overthink and have trouble sleepin’ / All purpose gone and don’t have a reason / And there’s no doctor to stop this bleedin’ / So I left home and jumped in the deep end,” Ed Sheeran sings in verse one. He continues by adding that this person is feeling the weight of having disappointed his father and doesn’t have any friends to rely on in this difficult moment. In the second verse, Ed sings about the role of grief in his friend’s plight and his dwindling faith in prayer. “Saturday night is givin’ me a reason to rely on the strobe lights / The lifeline of a promise in a shot glass, and I’ll take that / If you’re givin’ out love from a plastic bag,” Ed sings on the chorus, as his friend turns to new vices in hopes of feeling better.
This is a brilliant song and is the 'Tour de force' of Congratulations. Because MGMT worked very hard to make this a "concept album" it echoes many themes found in other tracks. It is ultimately about the ebb and flow of the creative process and the cold side of commercial success. Hence, surfing in Siberia is a very apt metaphor.
The mood of the music and the shifting tempo are as telling as the words.
The opening of the song is a gesture of dreamy withdrawal. It speaks of defense mechanisms kicking in and a backing away from sudden fame. On an optimistic note, even in this state the creative voice "streams" along "in the direction of truth."
sleep as the goer the bridge that watches the light speed thru and cries while the spirit stumbles the inside missile for the protection of you
maybe it's silent the voice can't bear anymore strain but speaks without even knowing and streams outside in the direction of truth
The next section starts with a revelation of sorts. Ultimately material success is meaningless and does not lead to true fulfillment. There is no larger reason. Andrew and Ben are not messiah's. Therefore the open arms of adoring fans, the recording industry, congratulatory friends, etc... feel strangely cold.
there's no reason there's no secret to decode if you can't save it, leave it dying on the road wide open arms can feel so cold so cold feel so cold
Tempo shift. The steady pulse of life pounds along. The shallow realities of American culture. Reality shows [vote to decide who'll advance]. Terrifying sensationalism [the terrible desire to see a plane crash]. The dark side of drug use [but really there's no trip at all, that doesn't result in a fall]. The trappings of success [nobly wasting the night, but it isn't right]. The desire to run (or "float") away and the inability to do so.
balance the books, the ledges, the loons the disappointed look on the faces that squint at the moon let's see it with shadows enhanced and then vote to decide who'll advance silver jet plane, making a turn exciting the brain that expects it to crash and then burn it's not the life lesson Id've guessed if you're conscious you must be depressed or at least cynical but someone might still eat the steaks even if they're tough spending the day chewing the fat floating away isn't rough but it's not enough oh Marianne, pass me the joint the sandpaper's tan go-getters are surfing the point and London's a scratch on the lens it's over before it begins silk round her neck falls down to her shoulders the older I get, the more I suspect there's a trick but really there's no trip at all that doesn't result in a fall or a faltering but something could spit out the bait even if it's real rolling away missing a spoke close to the ground like a wheel but it's not a joke holding the line clutching the phone nobly wasting the night, but it isn't right it's not right smelling for blood praying for rain running away isn't rough , but it's not enough
Tempo shift. The tides (which are always changing) swing back to the state of dreamy withdrawal we found at the beginning of the song. "I hope I die before I get sold" is both the expression of a very real desire to escape being packaged by the music industry and a very clever play the The Who lyric "I hope I die before I get old"
the low tide is telling me, when it's over, to breathe in everything exposed and comes back to cover me in a blanket being here's always changing tunes
the empty sky surrounds me but I can't see at all wide open arms can feel so cold and you can sit beside me and tell me what it's worth but I hope I die before I get sold I hope I die before I get sold I'd rather die before I get sold
Tempo shift. Fighting out of the withdrawn dream state and willing life back into the soul. Realizing that there is something inside that cannot be created or destroyed.
if you find the soul that you lost frozen in a starry void take it within and hope the sight of blood can will signs of life to return back to the way that it was long before it made a noise to keep on quietly reminding you what's never created or destroyed
Awake again. Creating again. But aware that the creative force (while it can't be destroyed) "can always go into hiding."
wake as the swell peaks the close-outs drowning the birds with roars and howls scare the new unkindness that picks and laughs at the carrion scene
forces you see breath can always go into hiding and wait til it passes over or stay far gone for all eternity
This is an abridged interpretation. The song is long enough that each line could be mulled over in lengthy fashion. It is really great to find a band and a lyricist that is engaged enough to strive for such a high level in this day of bubble gum pop and cheesy love ballads.
One last note. MGMT does not mean to look down their nose at drug use. After all its good fun. But as a dance band that earned their reputation on people taking ecstasy and getting down to tunes like "Electric Feel" they are striving for something larger. This is very evident to me in the opening track "It's Working" where they speak of a drug "working in your blood, but thats not the same as love -- love is only in your mind.
Love your interpretation. I was thinking the same thing about "It's Working" Lots of MGMT "fans" enjoyed their hit songs like electric feel, time to pretend and kids while tripping. and they "fell in love" with them, and now just hate their new CD. "It's working in your blood. but that's not the same as love" <br /> I think MGMT wanted to get away from all this fake fans, mass adullation, etc. with this album, and they are doing it indeed, which is great. I love Congratulations, there's no one single song that I dislike, which for me is totally new, i always skip songs with other artists, but no MGMT, they are pure magic to me
my friend i think you hit it on the nail.
i think getting sold means all drugs/plants stop working