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.
As I was walking through a life one morning
The sun was out, the air was warm but oh,
I was cold,
And though I must have looked a half a person,
To tell the tale in my own version,
It was only then that I felt whole.
Do you believe in something beautiful?
Then, get up and be it
Fighting for the smallest goal:
To get a little self-control.
I know how hard you try.
I see it in your eyes.
Call your friends, 'cause we've forgotten
What it's like to eat what's rotten,
And what's eating you alive,
Might help you to survive.
We went on, as we were on a mission,
Latest in a Grand Tradition.
Oh, what did we find?
It was Ego who was flying the banner,
Me and Mia, Ann and Ana, oh,
We'd been unkind.
Do you believe in something beautiful?
Then, get up and be it
Fighting for the smallest goal:
To get a little self-control.
I see it in your eyes,
I see it in your spine,
But call your friends, 'cause we've forgotten
What it's like to eat what's rotten
And what's eating you alive,
Might help you to survive
Even the nights that could get better.
And even the days aren't all that bad.
And after a week of fighting,
As more and more it seems the right thing
Do you believe in something beautiful?
Then get up and be it
Fighting for the smallest goal:
To gain a little self-control
Won't anybody here just let you disappear?
Not doctors, nor your mom nor dad,
But me and Mia, Ann and Ana
Know how hard you try,
Don't you see it in my eyes?
Sick to death of my dependence,
Fighting food to find transcendence.
Fighting to survive.
More dead, but more alive.
Cigarettes and speed to live,
And sleeping pills to feel forgiven.
All that you contrive,
And all that you're deprived.
All the bourgeois social angels
Telling you you've got to change.
Don't have any idea.
They'll never see so clear.
But don't forget what it really means to
Hunger strike,
When you don't really need to
Some are dying for the cause, but that don't make it yours.
And even the nights, they could get better
The sun was out, the air was warm but oh,
I was cold,
And though I must have looked a half a person,
To tell the tale in my own version,
It was only then that I felt whole.
Do you believe in something beautiful?
Then, get up and be it
Fighting for the smallest goal:
To get a little self-control.
I know how hard you try.
I see it in your eyes.
Call your friends, 'cause we've forgotten
What it's like to eat what's rotten,
And what's eating you alive,
Might help you to survive.
We went on, as we were on a mission,
Latest in a Grand Tradition.
Oh, what did we find?
It was Ego who was flying the banner,
Me and Mia, Ann and Ana, oh,
We'd been unkind.
Do you believe in something beautiful?
Then, get up and be it
Fighting for the smallest goal:
To get a little self-control.
I see it in your eyes,
I see it in your spine,
But call your friends, 'cause we've forgotten
What it's like to eat what's rotten
And what's eating you alive,
Might help you to survive
Even the nights that could get better.
And even the days aren't all that bad.
And after a week of fighting,
As more and more it seems the right thing
Do you believe in something beautiful?
Then get up and be it
Fighting for the smallest goal:
To gain a little self-control
Won't anybody here just let you disappear?
Not doctors, nor your mom nor dad,
But me and Mia, Ann and Ana
Know how hard you try,
Don't you see it in my eyes?
Sick to death of my dependence,
Fighting food to find transcendence.
Fighting to survive.
More dead, but more alive.
Cigarettes and speed to live,
And sleeping pills to feel forgiven.
All that you contrive,
And all that you're deprived.
All the bourgeois social angels
Telling you you've got to change.
Don't have any idea.
They'll never see so clear.
But don't forget what it really means to
Hunger strike,
When you don't really need to
Some are dying for the cause, but that don't make it yours.
And even the nights, they could get better
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I agree with most of the ED interpretations that have already been posted. But I still need to add my $0.02:
"...what's eating you alive, might help you to survive."
I'm kind of surprised that no one's said this yet, really, but ED's are a coping mechanism. They are a way to deal with stress, with difficult life situations, with whatever. People wouldn't have them, and wouldn't find them so difficult to recover from, if they didn't serve some sort of purpose. So it can be simultaneously killing you/eating you alive and saving your life by giving you an avenue for dealing with...whatever.
Just a minor point: I think the "smallest goal" isn't a value judgement, but a description of the goal itself: to be small, smaller, smallest.
And the bit about the bourgeois social angels, I'd think that means the models, TV stars, and just society in general. Societal expectations are so complicated and fucked up--go to the grocery store and scan the magazine covers at the check-out; I almost guarantee you'll find the latest celeb who's gotten too thin, at least 2 perfect diets, and a recipe for some fabulous dessert your family will love! What other logical conclusion is there than to eat the dessert and then throw it up again?