This song seemingly tackles the methods of deception those who manipulate others use to get victims to follow their demands, as well as diverting attention away from important issues. They'll also use it as a means to convince people to hate or kill others by pretending acts of terrorism were committed by the enemy when the acts themselves were done by the masters of control to promote discrimination and hate. It also reinforces the idea that these manipulative forces operate in various locations, infiltrating everyday life without detection, and propagate any and everywhere.
In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
I know which ring she wears on which finger each day of the week
And I know why she holds me as gently as a priceless antique
I know why she reminds me of poems built from leftover rhymes
Why she puts on her socks and her shoes one foot at a time
But I don't know how she wears a floor length coat without dragging it along
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer but not the songs
I know exactly how long she likes her tea bag to steep
And just what she wants to hear most before she falls asleep
I know what it means when she adds one more name to her list
And she doesn't think I do, but I know just whatÂ’s clenched in her fist
But I don't know why she laughs at my jokes when the punchlines are wrong
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer but not the songs
In my craft and sullen art I sit and labor all day
The phony rubies in her necklace brush the table as she sways
And her eyes are like burned out wheatfields with smoke rising up through the snow
The music that she loves the best gets inside me and follows wherever I go
I know why she drives like she's trying to get us both killed
What she does with the porcelain angels she buys at Goodwill
Why she clings to the city like she holds her pillow so tight
And I know why she sneaks out of bed and sits on the roof late at night
But I don't know if she thinks that I should go when it gets close to dawn
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer but not the songs
And I know why she holds me as gently as a priceless antique
I know why she reminds me of poems built from leftover rhymes
Why she puts on her socks and her shoes one foot at a time
But I don't know how she wears a floor length coat without dragging it along
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer but not the songs
I know exactly how long she likes her tea bag to steep
And just what she wants to hear most before she falls asleep
I know what it means when she adds one more name to her list
And she doesn't think I do, but I know just whatÂ’s clenched in her fist
But I don't know why she laughs at my jokes when the punchlines are wrong
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer but not the songs
In my craft and sullen art I sit and labor all day
The phony rubies in her necklace brush the table as she sways
And her eyes are like burned out wheatfields with smoke rising up through the snow
The music that she loves the best gets inside me and follows wherever I go
I know why she drives like she's trying to get us both killed
What she does with the porcelain angels she buys at Goodwill
Why she clings to the city like she holds her pillow so tight
And I know why she sneaks out of bed and sits on the roof late at night
But I don't know if she thinks that I should go when it gets close to dawn
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer
And I don't know how she can love the singer but not the songs
Lyrics submitted by TheIntimindator27
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