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.
We both know the smell of a convenience store at 4 a.m. like the backs
of alotta hands.
She sells me trucker crack/Mini-Thins (it's like Vivarin).
She doesn't make me feel awkward about it.
She can tell it's been a long drive and it's only gonna get longer.
Offers me a free cup of coffee, but I never touch the stuff.
Besides, I'm gonna need more speed than that.
We notice each other’s smiles immediately.
It's our favorite thing for people to notice--our smiles.
It's all either one of us has to offer.
You can see it in the way our cheeks stretch out like arms
wanting nothing more than to say, "You are welcome here."
She--
shows brittle nicotine teeth with spaces between each one.
Her fingers are bony, there's no rings on'm, and she'd love to get'er nails done someday.
One time she had'er hair fixed.
They took out the grease, made it real big on top, and feathered it.
She likes it like that.
She'll never be fully informed on some things just like I will never understand
who really buys Moon Pies, or those rolling, wrinkled, dried-up sausages.
But then again, she's been here a lot longer than me.
She's seen everything
from men who grow dread locks out of their top lips
to children who look like cigarettes.
I give'er my money.
I wait for my change.
But I feel like there's something more happening here.
I feel--
like a warm mop bucket and dingy tiles that'll never come clean.
I feel like these freezers cannot be re-stocked often enough.
I feel like trash cans of candy wrappers
with soda pop dripping down the wrong side of the plastic.
I feel like everything just got computerized.
I feel like she was raised to say a LOT of stupid things about a color.
And I feel like if I were to identify myself as gay--
this conversation would stop.
It's what I do.
I feel.
I get scared sometimes.
And I drive.
...But in 1 minute and 48 seconds I'm gonna walk outta here with a full tank of gas, a bottle of Mini-Thins, and a pint of milk while there's a woman still trapped behind a formican counter somewhere in North Dakota who says she wants nothing more than to hear my whole story, all 92,775 miles of it.
I can feel it though, y'all, she's heard more opinions and trucker small talk than Santa Claus has made kids happy, so I only find the nerve to tell'er the good parts, that she's the kindest thing to happen since Burlington, VT, and I wanna leave it at that because men--who are not smart--have taken it farther, have cradled her up like a nutcracker and made her feel as warm as a high school education on the dusty back road, or a beer, in a coozy.
I feel like she's been waiting here a long time for the one who'll come 2-steppin'; through that door on 18 wheels without makin'er feel like it's her job to sweep up the nutshells alone when she's done been cracked again, who won't tempt her to suck the wedding ring off his dick, but will show her--simply--LOVE.
She doesn't need me or any other man but she doesn't know that either, and I'm just hopin' like crazy she doesn't think I'm the one because the only time I'll ever see North Dakota again is in a Van Morrison song late (LATE) at night, I promise.
Y'all, I feel like she's 37 years old wearing 51 (badly), dying inside (like certain kinds of dances around fires) to speak through you, a forest, if you weren't so taken with sparks.
But she was never given those words.
She has not been told she can definitely change the world.
She knows some folks do
but not in convenience stores
and NOT with lottery tickets
so
I finally ask'er what I've been feelin' the entire time I've been standin' there
still
gettin' scared like I do sometimes
really (REALLY) ready to drive
I ask,
"Is this it for you?
Is this all you'll ever do?"
Her smile
collapsed.
That tightly strapped-in pasty skin
went loose.
Her heart
fell crooked.
She said (not knowin' my real name),
"I can tell, buddy, by the Mini Thins and the way ya drive--
we're both taken with novelty.
We've both believed in mean gods.
We both spend our money on things that break too easily like...
people.
And I can tell
you think you've had it rough
so especially you should know...
It's what I do,
I dream.
I get high sometimes.
And I'm gonna roll outta here one day.
I just might not get to drive."
of alotta hands.
She sells me trucker crack/Mini-Thins (it's like Vivarin).
She doesn't make me feel awkward about it.
She can tell it's been a long drive and it's only gonna get longer.
Offers me a free cup of coffee, but I never touch the stuff.
Besides, I'm gonna need more speed than that.
We notice each other’s smiles immediately.
It's our favorite thing for people to notice--our smiles.
It's all either one of us has to offer.
You can see it in the way our cheeks stretch out like arms
wanting nothing more than to say, "You are welcome here."
She--
shows brittle nicotine teeth with spaces between each one.
Her fingers are bony, there's no rings on'm, and she'd love to get'er nails done someday.
One time she had'er hair fixed.
They took out the grease, made it real big on top, and feathered it.
She likes it like that.
She'll never be fully informed on some things just like I will never understand
who really buys Moon Pies, or those rolling, wrinkled, dried-up sausages.
But then again, she's been here a lot longer than me.
She's seen everything
from men who grow dread locks out of their top lips
to children who look like cigarettes.
I give'er my money.
I wait for my change.
But I feel like there's something more happening here.
I feel--
like a warm mop bucket and dingy tiles that'll never come clean.
I feel like these freezers cannot be re-stocked often enough.
I feel like trash cans of candy wrappers
with soda pop dripping down the wrong side of the plastic.
I feel like everything just got computerized.
I feel like she was raised to say a LOT of stupid things about a color.
And I feel like if I were to identify myself as gay--
this conversation would stop.
It's what I do.
I feel.
I get scared sometimes.
And I drive.
...But in 1 minute and 48 seconds I'm gonna walk outta here with a full tank of gas, a bottle of Mini-Thins, and a pint of milk while there's a woman still trapped behind a formican counter somewhere in North Dakota who says she wants nothing more than to hear my whole story, all 92,775 miles of it.
I can feel it though, y'all, she's heard more opinions and trucker small talk than Santa Claus has made kids happy, so I only find the nerve to tell'er the good parts, that she's the kindest thing to happen since Burlington, VT, and I wanna leave it at that because men--who are not smart--have taken it farther, have cradled her up like a nutcracker and made her feel as warm as a high school education on the dusty back road, or a beer, in a coozy.
I feel like she's been waiting here a long time for the one who'll come 2-steppin'; through that door on 18 wheels without makin'er feel like it's her job to sweep up the nutshells alone when she's done been cracked again, who won't tempt her to suck the wedding ring off his dick, but will show her--simply--LOVE.
She doesn't need me or any other man but she doesn't know that either, and I'm just hopin' like crazy she doesn't think I'm the one because the only time I'll ever see North Dakota again is in a Van Morrison song late (LATE) at night, I promise.
Y'all, I feel like she's 37 years old wearing 51 (badly), dying inside (like certain kinds of dances around fires) to speak through you, a forest, if you weren't so taken with sparks.
But she was never given those words.
She has not been told she can definitely change the world.
She knows some folks do
but not in convenience stores
and NOT with lottery tickets
so
I finally ask'er what I've been feelin' the entire time I've been standin' there
still
gettin' scared like I do sometimes
really (REALLY) ready to drive
I ask,
"Is this it for you?
Is this all you'll ever do?"
Her smile
collapsed.
That tightly strapped-in pasty skin
went loose.
Her heart
fell crooked.
She said (not knowin' my real name),
"I can tell, buddy, by the Mini Thins and the way ya drive--
we're both taken with novelty.
We've both believed in mean gods.
We both spend our money on things that break too easily like...
people.
And I can tell
you think you've had it rough
so especially you should know...
It's what I do,
I dream.
I get high sometimes.
And I'm gonna roll outta here one day.
I just might not get to drive."
Lyrics submitted by toodrunktodream
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This is a hauntingly beautiful song about introspection, specifically about looking back at a relationship that started bad and ended so poorly, that the narrator wants to go back to the very beginning and tell himself to not even travel down that road. I believe that the relationship started poorly because of the lines:
"Take me back to the night we met:When the night was full of terrors: And your eyes were filled with tears: When you had not touched me yet"
So, the first night was not a great start, but the narrator pursued the relationship and eventually both overcame the rough start to fall in love with each other:
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Like many relationships that turn sour, it was not a quick decline, but a gradual one where the narrator and their partner fall out of love and gradually grow apart
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Losing someone who was once everything in your world, who you could confide in, tell your secrets to, share all the most intimate parts of your life, to being strangers with that person is probably one of the most painful experiences a person can go through. So Painful, the narrator wants to go back in time and tell himself to not even pursue the relationship.
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Hayalperest
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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.
No Surprises
Radiohead
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Same ideas expressed in Fitter, Happier are expressed in this song. We're told to strive for some sort of ideal life, which includes getting a good job, being kind to everyone, finding a partner, getting married, having a couple kids, living in a quiet neighborhood in a nice big house, etc. But in Fitter, Happier the narrator(?) realizes that it's incredibly robotic to live this life. People are being used by those in power "like a pig in a cage on antibiotics"--being pacified with things like new phones and cool gadgets and houses while being sucked dry. On No Surprises, the narrator is realizing how this life is killing him slowly. In the video, his helmet is slowly filling up with water, drowning him. But he's so complacent with it. This is a good summary of the song. This boring, "perfect" life foisted upon us by some higher powers (not spiritual, but political, economic, etc. politicians and businessmen, perhaps) is not the way to live. But there is seemingly no way out but death. He'd rather die peacefully right now than live in this cage. While our lives are often shielded, we're in our own protective bubbles, or protective helmets like the one Thom wears, if we look a little harder we can see all the corruption, lies, manipulation, etc. that is going on in the world, often run by huge yet nearly invisible organizations, corporations, and 'leaders'. It's a very hopeless song because it reflects real life.
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