I think much like another song “Anti-Matter” (that's also on the same album as this song), this one is also is inspired by a horrifying van crash the band experienced on Nov 3, 2022. This, much like the other track, sounds like it's an extension what they shared while huddled in the wreckage, as they helped frontman Garrett Russell stem the bleeding from his head wound while he was under the temporary effects of a concussion. The track speaks of where the mind goes at the most desperate & desolate of times, when it just about slips away to all but disconnect itself, and the aftermath.
When we got to Boston, we knew we'd missed a turn.
No one back in traffic school had told us there are signs that can't be learned.
Geography's too stubborn and people are too clear,
So let's go find a road-side motel with a clerk who won't tell.
Days will turn into nights, nights will turn into days, weeks,
Seasons, and years.
We'll stay for years.
Red and white for blood cells, red and white for wine.
They could be the whole damn spectrum if we'd all just let them.
Lord, it's such a crime
Working on an inch less waistband in the strip mall wasteland
Outside of this town,
Or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen more,
Everybody knows, everybody knows that it's in.
The fix is in.
Let's go back to Boston. Forget about the turn.
Atlases and gas station attendants are none of our concern.
We'll forge a little life dear (oh dear) and double down our debts,
And I guess it stands to reason that the passing seasons will
Slowly dull regrets.
Working on an inch less waistband in the strip mall wasteland
Outside of this town,
Or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen more,
Everybody knows, everybody knows that it's in.
The fix is in.
No one back in traffic school had told us there are signs that can't be learned.
Geography's too stubborn and people are too clear,
So let's go find a road-side motel with a clerk who won't tell.
Days will turn into nights, nights will turn into days, weeks,
Seasons, and years.
We'll stay for years.
Red and white for blood cells, red and white for wine.
They could be the whole damn spectrum if we'd all just let them.
Lord, it's such a crime
Working on an inch less waistband in the strip mall wasteland
Outside of this town,
Or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen more,
Everybody knows, everybody knows that it's in.
The fix is in.
Let's go back to Boston. Forget about the turn.
Atlases and gas station attendants are none of our concern.
We'll forge a little life dear (oh dear) and double down our debts,
And I guess it stands to reason that the passing seasons will
Slowly dull regrets.
Working on an inch less waistband in the strip mall wasteland
Outside of this town,
Or clawing at the penthouse kitchen floor for just one smidgen more,
Everybody knows, everybody knows that it's in.
The fix is in.
Lyrics submitted by qshapadooy
The Fix Is In Lyrics as written by Damian Kulash Andrew Duncan
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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