| The Tragically Hip – Thugs Lyrics | 8 years ago |
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I think it's a much more literal interpretation than some of the ones on here. "Everyone's got their breaking point With me it's spiders and with you it's me Thugs in perpetuity" Someone who is involved or in love with a criminal. The criminal is OK with who they are, they are a thug in perpetuity. With their lover, they are about to snap as they are a thug in perpetuity. "When we're excited little birds around the feeder The cat's indifferent or he's just furious It seems that he's never neither" The thugs are the little birds. The law is the cat. The thugs like to do illegal things; they love to brag about their crimes; they can't wait for the thrill of the next one; when they do something serious, they get antsy. The cats turn a blind eye to the crime, or they hunt them down. In the case of the music video, it'd appear they are furious, as they are bank robbers. "I do the rolling you do the detail I do the rolling you do the detail" Rolling is an old term for robbing someone. Detail would be things like crowd control, etc. "Hair bird plucks a hair from a sleeping dog To build her nest she said I've looked around And I like your hair the best" This is again the lover who can't quite get past that they have fallen in love with a thug. They chose this person, even though they knew they were a criminal. "I do the rolling you do the detail I do the rolling you do the detail" Is the criminal thinking about involving his lover? "Ruby, honey are you mad at your man?" More of a mocking tone. How can you be upset at a thug doing criminal things? |
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| Pearl Jam – Immortality Lyrics | 12 years ago |
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Here's how I see the song. Vacate is the word. Vengeance has no place so near to her. Cannot find comfort in this world. Artificial tear. Vessel stabbed, next up, volunteers? Vulnerable wisdom can't adhere. A truant finds home, and a wish to hold on, but there's a trap door in the sun. Immortality. As privileged as a whore. Victims in demand for public show. Swept out through the cracks beneath the door. Scrawl dissolved. Cigar box on the floor. A truant finds home, and I wish to hold on to, but saw the trap door in the sun. Immortality. I cannot stop the thought of running in the dark. Coming up a which way sign. All good truants must decide. Auctioned forearm and whiskers in the sink. Truants move on, cannot stay long. Some die just to live. I agree with Mr. Vedder's comments that this is not about Kurt Cobain's death. I do see it as a song about artists at a crossroads where perhaps they've been offered a contract by a major record label and aren't sure what to do. Do you take the deal and sell your soul, but in turn make your art available to the masses, or decline it and continue on the indie path, but be at peace with that decision? |
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