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've been sitting on the corner, on this worn out bench all day
The address on the postcard simply will not fade away
And I'll still be here when the daytime ends
And I'm never going home again
Like an artist who cannot afford to buy any more red
Atired and weary rambler who can never find a bed
Or a poet who can never find a pen
And I'm never going home again
I don't need a glass of rye or bottle full of scotch
If I have my canvas backpack and chinatown watch
I don't need a pillow I don't sleep much anyway
All I need's someone to hear these things I have to say
To wait for all of the postcards that I send
Cause I'm never going home again
I guess you've forgotten me by now that much is clear
But in case you haven't, you can always find me here
I can say I knew a hundred people when
And I'm never going home again
They say "april is the cruelest month," and I don't know what's worse than spring
All the snow is melting but that doesn't mean a thing
I've been across the country, and you know it's all the same
The address always fades away but you never lose the name
And I wind up here, waiting on the number 10
And I'm never going home again
The address on the postcard simply will not fade away
And I'll still be here when the daytime ends
And I'm never going home again
Like an artist who cannot afford to buy any more red
Atired and weary rambler who can never find a bed
Or a poet who can never find a pen
And I'm never going home again
I don't need a glass of rye or bottle full of scotch
If I have my canvas backpack and chinatown watch
I don't need a pillow I don't sleep much anyway
All I need's someone to hear these things I have to say
To wait for all of the postcards that I send
Cause I'm never going home again
I guess you've forgotten me by now that much is clear
But in case you haven't, you can always find me here
I can say I knew a hundred people when
And I'm never going home again
They say "april is the cruelest month," and I don't know what's worse than spring
All the snow is melting but that doesn't mean a thing
I've been across the country, and you know it's all the same
The address always fades away but you never lose the name
And I wind up here, waiting on the number 10
And I'm never going home again
Lyrics submitted by TheIntimindator27
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