This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
The men were here to get your Belgian things
They'll store them for you in an airplane hangar
There's guys in biohazard suits
Mud caking on their rubber boots
They've come to keep your pretty things from danger
The men were here to get your Belgian things
They'll spend the whole day hauling them downstairs
I shot a roll of thirty-two exposures
My camera groans beneath the weight it bears
I can see you in my sleep
Playing the points for all you're worth
Walking gingerly across the bruised earth
The men were here to get your Belgian things
They waltzed right through the door and went flourescent
Their boots were black and shiny and your treasures gleamed like stars
Bones from deep down in the fertile crescent
The arteries are clogging in the mainframe
There's too much information in the pipes
I saw the mess you left up in the east bedroom
A tiger's never gonna change its stripes
I guess
I guess but Jesus what a mess
One way in and no way out
The men were here to get your Belgian things
And only I was here to see them do it
I wish you had a number where you are
It's hard with no one here to help me through it
I can see you in my sleep
Playing the points for all you're worth
Walking gingerly across the bruised earth
They'll store them for you in an airplane hangar
There's guys in biohazard suits
Mud caking on their rubber boots
They've come to keep your pretty things from danger
The men were here to get your Belgian things
They'll spend the whole day hauling them downstairs
I shot a roll of thirty-two exposures
My camera groans beneath the weight it bears
I can see you in my sleep
Playing the points for all you're worth
Walking gingerly across the bruised earth
The men were here to get your Belgian things
They waltzed right through the door and went flourescent
Their boots were black and shiny and your treasures gleamed like stars
Bones from deep down in the fertile crescent
The arteries are clogging in the mainframe
There's too much information in the pipes
I saw the mess you left up in the east bedroom
A tiger's never gonna change its stripes
I guess
I guess but Jesus what a mess
One way in and no way out
The men were here to get your Belgian things
And only I was here to see them do it
I wish you had a number where you are
It's hard with no one here to help me through it
I can see you in my sleep
Playing the points for all you're worth
Walking gingerly across the bruised earth
Lyrics submitted by I'm a Pirate, edited by haruki
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I definitely agree that this song seems to be about loss, though I'm not sure the loss of a life. The album was written about Darnielle & Co. using drugs in Belgium, but everything's gotta come to an end. I'd like to think this song is quite simply the removal of their possessions and transport into an airplane hangar - where they would be shipped elsewhere. The mess left up in the east bedroom may be the continuation of bad behaviors, instead of packing someone was strung out. Live, however, this song's culimating lines state "Tracy I can see you in my sleep," and that makes the death angle more probable. Especially given Darnielle's (?) camera "groaning beneath the weight it bears." This is conjecture. The song is still tear-elicitingly beautiful.