So this has been.my favorite song of OTEP's since it came out in 2004, and I always thought it was a song about a child's narrative of suffering in an abusive Christian home. But now that I am revisiting the lyrics, I am seeing something totally new.
This song could be gospel of John but from the perspective of Jesus.
Jesus was NOT having a good time up to and during the crucifixion. Everyone in the known world at the time looked to him with fear, admiration or disgust and he was constantly being asked questions. He spoke in "verses, prophesies and curses". He had made an enemy of the state, and believed the world was increasingly wicked and fallen from grace, or that he was in the "mouth of madness".
The spine of atlas is the structure that allows the titan to hold the world up. Jesus challenged the state and in doing so became a celebrated resistance figure. It also made him public enemy #1.
All of this happened simply because he was doing his thing, not because of any agenda he had or strategy.
And then he gets scourged (storm of thorns)
There are some plot holes here but I think it's an interesting interpretation.
God is love and love is real, but the dead are dancing with the dead and through all that's charming disappears.
All things lovely only hurt my head as I gather stones from fields like pearls of water on my fingers' ends and wrap them in boxes.
Save from windows, from things that break, as the night-time shined like day it saw my sorry face.
Hair a mess but it liked my best that way
(besides how else could I confess? When I looked down like if to pray, well I was looking down her dress...) Good god, please! Catch for us the foxes in the vineyard - the little foxes.
Turn your ear, musician.
To silence because they only come out when it's quiet, their tails brushing over your eyelids - wake up, sleeper, and rise from the dead!
Or the fur that they shed will cover your bed in a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red.
Ah, I don't need this!
I hate my loves, I have my doubts.
I don't need this.
All things lovely only hurt my head as I gather stones from fields like pearls of water on my fingers' ends and wrap them in boxes.
Save from windows, from things that break, as the night-time shined like day it saw my sorry face.
Hair a mess but it liked my best that way
(besides how else could I confess? When I looked down like if to pray, well I was looking down her dress...) Good god, please! Catch for us the foxes in the vineyard - the little foxes.
Turn your ear, musician.
To silence because they only come out when it's quiet, their tails brushing over your eyelids - wake up, sleeper, and rise from the dead!
Or the fur that they shed will cover your bed in a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red.
Ah, I don't need this!
I hate my loves, I have my doubts.
I don't need this.
Lyrics submitted by bullets2binary, edited by MusicSoul0889
The Soviet Lyrics as written by
Lyrics © Capitol CMG Publishing, TERRORBIRD PUBLISHING LLC
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Absolutely. Beautiful.