Things have changed in the past few days. Fall fell pretty heavily on me, encasing me in a cobwebby mire of low, festering anxiety. I slept all day, got up around four or five, and went to work. A week or so later, I'm walking around and I run into Dave and Roby at Harris Teeter and they talk me into drinking a couple of bottles of Robotussin with them. We chug the cough syrup in the bathroom and it makes my mouth sticky and I feel depraved. This is a pretty debased life, walking around in pouring sheets of rain, in slow motion. But North Carolina has a nice sky in it's own way, in winter, at night. (Photos and dates may be misplaced) I walk home and on the way a homeless guy approaches me and even though I tell him I don't have any change he pleads, he clutches his bible and so I reach in my pocket and produce a handful of change, all the change I scraped up from my room on Mallate street and he stares at me without speaking. It's funny, I guess. Well, I won't make the same mistake twice, I imagine. Occasionally, though, it occurs to me how stuck I am, in North Carolina. I've been here a long time. Six months. Long enough to start a band. Somewhere out there is this place in the future where I'm going to leave again. And I look to that day, I long for that day, I long for that time. I wonder what's going to become of me. I'm getting older. Smaller patterns disappear and are subsumed by bigger patterns. I imagine myself in the future and I try to think what I'll be like. I'd like to move to Europe one day, but it's a scary prospect, after a lifetime of building a continent of friendships, to throw it all away. But there is liberation, too: the liberation of being born again.
Decaffination has been giving me a headache, pounding like a hammer in the movie theatre of ghost images. I'm in New York for no reason. The usual no reason. I drove my father's car up yesterday, filled to the gills. Five kids, one car. We drove fast, it was fun. I don't know this tune, but the idea seems clear: you only grow through alienating yourself from your surroundings. So why am I here? I don't know. Since I drank that Robotussin things haven't been quite the same. It's funny that I live on a lane. Last night we had a run in with a huge rat. It's not clear what happened: somehow it died underneath the stove. Everything that could be wrong with this house is just completely wrong.
The night before I left, I went to a party. It was weird. She's nice, but not much like me. She does have a casio SK-1 in perfect condition, which I must under all circumstances keep in mind. It could come in handy later. That's the problem with being anti-materialist: you become hyper-materialist around the edges.

Lyrics submitted by Malhavic

Robotussin song meanings
Add your thoughts

No Comments

sort form View by:
  • No Comments

Add your thoughts

Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.

Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!

Back to top