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:
"I had all and then most of you"
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
"Some and now none of you"
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.
This was the perfect song for "13 Reasons Why"
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cell one is a padded little palace, within which lives a little girl named Alice
For half her life in that room she has been banished,
She drinks from the wrong side of the chalice, the girl's damaged.
Each day when I arrive at the front gate, I hear her happy little voice say
"You're late, you're late, you're late"
Always talking to the friends in her head, running round her cell and playing under her bed.
At lunchtimes I go listen to her mad chatter,
Matter of fact, tea parties with a limited platter.
She wont touch her lunch unless it's labelled completely with little tags saying either 'drink me' or 'eat me'
She's never any hassle, bashful battles with validity
Always mad polite in spite of all the instability
Handles the containment and displacement just formidably
Hates the locking doors but by the morning she's forgiven me.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cell four'll be Dorothy, sweet little thing.
Always likes to chat and smile and dance and sing.
It's startling when you start to think of how you might react to this darker thing.
She believes that she travelled to a far away land and havoc was wreaked by her own fair hand
She killed a woman by mistake, straight away on arriving,
Then formed a gang to go and hunt and kill the victim's sibling.
It's kind of fucked up, they killed wolves and crows
As they trod a bloodstained path along a yellow brick road.
And once they'd killed their second victim, they still weren't done
This posse bounded on and hounded some old man for fun.
She tells her story with a smile, while not the slightest flicker of rigour lingers (?)
As this princess clicks the heels on her slippers.
Kinda hear a solemn mumble as I close the cell door
"Mr Porter we ain't in Kansas no more"
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
One more door, let's jaw about Wendy.
Always looking forlorn sat by her window like a sentry, hope of entry is empty due to bars and grating
But she still sits staring at the stars just waiting
Carved in her heart an outline never, never fading.
A figure, hands on hips, feet never, never quaking.
Memories of a kiss, hands never, never shaking.
Her grasps on this dream of hers never, never breaking.
Years back you often hear her talking at night, about pirate's adventures and mind propelled flight.
I know what you're thinking, 'absolutely batshit, factually inaccurate, engaging the inanimate'
She's say "I believe in fairies" as she rang a little bell,
And yeah that's kinda crazy but it's harmless aswell.
She harnessed herself apart from this hell and started a well that through her dreams alone broke the fucking bars to this cell.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cell one is a padded little palace, within which lives a little girl named Alice
For half her life in that room she has been banished,
She drinks from the wrong side of the chalice, the girl's damaged.
Each day when I arrive at the front gate, I hear her happy little voice say
"You're late, you're late, you're late"
Always talking to the friends in her head, running round her cell and playing under her bed.
At lunchtimes I go listen to her mad chatter,
Matter of fact, tea parties with a limited platter.
She wont touch her lunch unless it's labelled completely with little tags saying either 'drink me' or 'eat me'
She's never any hassle, bashful battles with validity
Always mad polite in spite of all the instability
Handles the containment and displacement just formidably
Hates the locking doors but by the morning she's forgiven me.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cell four'll be Dorothy, sweet little thing.
Always likes to chat and smile and dance and sing.
It's startling when you start to think of how you might react to this darker thing.
She believes that she travelled to a far away land and havoc was wreaked by her own fair hand
She killed a woman by mistake, straight away on arriving,
Then formed a gang to go and hunt and kill the victim's sibling.
It's kind of fucked up, they killed wolves and crows
As they trod a bloodstained path along a yellow brick road.
And once they'd killed their second victim, they still weren't done
This posse bounded on and hounded some old man for fun.
She tells her story with a smile, while not the slightest flicker of rigour lingers (?)
As this princess clicks the heels on her slippers.
Kinda hear a solemn mumble as I close the cell door
"Mr Porter we ain't in Kansas no more"
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
One more door, let's jaw about Wendy.
Always looking forlorn sat by her window like a sentry, hope of entry is empty due to bars and grating
But she still sits staring at the stars just waiting
Carved in her heart an outline never, never fading.
A figure, hands on hips, feet never, never quaking.
Memories of a kiss, hands never, never shaking.
Her grasps on this dream of hers never, never breaking.
Years back you often hear her talking at night, about pirate's adventures and mind propelled flight.
I know what you're thinking, 'absolutely batshit, factually inaccurate, engaging the inanimate'
She's say "I believe in fairies" as she rang a little bell,
And yeah that's kinda crazy but it's harmless aswell.
She harnessed herself apart from this hell and started a well that through her dreams alone broke the fucking bars to this cell.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Cause I'm the porter and these wards I walk from wall to wall are full of the types of minds that might sometimes fight the binds of thought paths we all default to, weird to think each one is someone's daughter.
Lyrics submitted by aliceyxo
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!
More Featured Meanings
The Night We Met
Lord Huron
Lord Huron
Magical
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
How would you describe the feeling of being in love? For Ed Sheeran, the word is “Magical.” in HIS three-minute album opener, he makes an attempt to capture the beauty and delicacy of true love with words. He describes the magic of it all over a bright Pop song produced by Aaron Dessner.
Punchline
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran sings about missing his former partner and learning important life lessons in the process on “Punchline.” This track tells a story of battling to get rid of emotions for a former lover, whom he now realized might not have loved him the same way. He’s now caught between accepting that fact and learning life lessons from it and going back to beg her for another chance.
Amazing
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran tells a story of unsuccessfully trying to feel “Amazing.” This track is about the being weighed down by emotional stress despite valiant attempts to find some positivity in the situation. This track was written by Ed Sheeran from the perspective of his friend. From the track, we see this person fall deeper into the negative thoughts and slide further down the path of mental torment with every lyric.
Page
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
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.
First off, it's important to know that "Porter" in the UK can mean "One in charge of a gate or door." It seems like he's a guard at a women's insane asylum. Throughout the song he makes reference to mentally disturbed women who reside in said asylum. I don't think it goes any deeper than this honestly.