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I think this song has a strong message about fate tucked deep down into the lyrics, and it basically is jumping out at you to say that the odds were against you even coming into existence. So maybe instead of thinking about what it's all good for or what you are doing here, you should actually do something with your time.
But I've been wrong before =P
Brilliant.
Let me break down how I see it.
Numbed by too many anti-depressants he is at a lovers funeral getting soaked by the sprinkler or rain but not caring. He just wants to know why he is alive when his love isn't. He thinks of a show he saw on tv about the birth of man. Unlike religion the scientist (experts) explain the creation of life as a pure luck mix of elements. They continue on to the millions of sperm who die off trying to find an egg. There are so many ways not to make it.
The next verse is a car accident. The lover's body is laying on the road. The scene is so devastating he can't look at it. The Hazardous Materials are the blood and broken glass, etc. at the scene. His love will never go home again or be with him again. The lover is what goes undelivered.
He was in the passengers seat. He may have been to drunk or high to drive. That may be why he lived. Now he has to let go of all his sorrow and guilt. He won't let himself just grieve. He is desperate to move on and no longer be haunted by that last moment. He gets himself numb with way to many anti-depressants.
Imbibed refers absorbing too much. I'm guessing in his case it's a combo of alcohol, pills, and the water from the mister soaking his skin. The blisters could be physical or could be referring to sharp criticism of himself or both. To an extreme him might have injured himself in an attempt to feel. People are saying things to him like," She was a good person. We'll miss her." And the one he can''t deal with now," It's not your fault." He think it is his fault, he is the one who should have died. He thinks that what the people are secretly saying.
I had a "nervous tic motion of the head" when I was a kid. It used to be pronounced. Not "to the left", but a forceful forward snap. It won me merciless and cruel attention. It never really went away. I just internalized it. Now I chomp and grind my teeth all day; now they’re cracked and chipped like the rest of me. I also have an assortment of other nervous twitches that don't fail to be noticed.
The "16 tons of hazmat” are the messes that I've left behind, and the way they've stained my present; limited my future by consequence. A life full of poison that any sane person would rightly want to avoid, pack in a truck while covered in a sealed suit, and bury in the desert. "What goes undelivered" is the part of me that was damaged as a result. Time I will never recover. Potential never developed. Options and paths, irreparably damaged by decisions, made for me by trauma and sickness. And yes, I would love to have my life back. Love to undo what's done. But was it ever really mine to begin with, or did the forces of nature conspire to make me a human disaster?
"Overprescribed...Under the Mister". This is fairly literal. Patient of the psychological machine, 30 years and running. The “mister” could be any assortment of doctors or institutions. Parents. Teachers. Bosses. Lovers lost. Anyone assuring me I MUST do this or that. All of which leaves me roughly where I began. And so here I lay, “stretched out on the tarmac”. I missed the plane. I wanted to fly away. Instead I'm just a few miles north of where I started, face down on the asphalt.
This leads eventually to being "splayed out on the bath mat". Possibly having "over-imbibed" something you might see a man in my condition, on the street, clutching in the poor disguise of a "paper knapsack".
Now I'm "barely alive" and I "cover the blisters" - from a seared life; scorched earth; fiery encounters - with a layer of whatever it is I can find to cover myself. "Flannel" is as good as anything else I suppose. It doesn't matter. Flannel's practical. It doesn't impress, but it doesn't have to. It just needs to be soft, and somewhat durable. The blisters hurt, you see.
I try to talk about my pain. My depression. My dysphoria. But when I say things to people, I fail to make an impression. My ramblings sound "banal" - the whines and complaints of a guy who just needs to 'get his sh!t together and quit b!tching'. But not "one of them's [the words] a lie". It's the truth. An awful truth. A truth they're glad they don't know, or can't see. They know nothing of the hidden blisters. Nothing I can spit out of this mouth and into their ears will ever make any difference.
It'll only just land me back into the hands of a "mister" - another "prescription" - or perhaps upon my “bath mat”, where someone will find me, a repellent mess, blocking the path between them and the toilet, the latter a higher priority, only slightly less disgusting than whatever they are about to excrete.
Why this? Why ANYthing. It just happens. "Substances collide". Galaxies — solar systems — planets — molecules — bacteria — spirochetes - fungi - plants - animals - complex arrangements of tissue. Egg and sperm — the bulk of the latter wasted. Ejaculated into the dark, swimming around lost, finding nothing, until death. One in a million, if lucky, leads to something new, but maybe meaningless.
You can "exercise yourself 'till you're bereft" - but it won't really matter.
*tic*
The covering of blisters with flannel is an interpretation of the covering of pain with our bland soley accepted emotion of conformity or nonemotion. The reason not one of the words we speak can be a lie is because there is no truth outside of human experience, so objectively everything is true since objective truth is undefined. When I think about the depressing facts of life I almost have a nervous tic motion of the head, not necessarily to the left though.
Andrew Bird's brother is autistic and I think that there are definitely allusions to a bad experience which he had in this song... coupled with other complex issues about life, mortality and the way we cope with situations. But it is a song not without hope - as is common with Andrew's lyrics.
A nervous tic motion of the head to the left is a side effect from use of the medication Thorazin which is used to treat autism. Andrew also wrote about autism in another song called 'Tea and Thorazin' early in his career.
I find both songs intensely moving.
"Many health researchers have theorized that a pregnant woman's exposure to chemical pollutants, particularly metals and pesticides, could be altering a developing baby's brain structure, triggering autism."
I think that the song links together environmental issues with the deeply personal autism story so personal to Andrew Bird's own experiences... As you'll know, Andrew is also a big supporter of environmental charities... and has strong concerns about the future of the planet. Hence his green tour plans...
When his boss berates him over procrastinating on the project, he walks away covering the blisters (from the words) in flannel to hide that he's secretly freaked that he'll lose his job. When he goes to try and find answers via the History Channel, they give him an incomprehensible answer except the encouraging bit: "YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED." Real helpful, guys.
Now he wants to be on a jet tarmac, ready to fly away from problems, and he "can't stand to look back" at his failure. He feels like he's lost his life and "wants it back," but can't quite transition back into normality and his job, even though the boss probably didn't mean anything that serious. But he knows that the History Channel dudes don't always get things right (in fact, they're wrong quite often, depending on your religious opinion) and he's second-guessing their so-called advice...
Though the words we speak are banal
Now one of them's a lie
Now one of them's a lie
You're what happens when two substances collide
And by all accounts you really should have died
Eggs being the songs and the mysterious production the inspiration for the songs.
TV & Movies.
Doubt it?
This one is The Fly. American Psycho II is next. Banking On Myth is completely inspired by The Avengers, a terrible movie with Sean Connery & Uma Thurman.
MX Missiles nods heavily to Star Trek, particularlly the Crystaline Entity--a creature that was eventually destroyed when a high frequency was broadcast at it... ie, killed with w whistle.
And Tables & Chairs is all Fight Club.
It's a great album, but you guys have overthought the hell out of it.
I should really dedicate some time to proof reading. =/
This doesnt really work with the rest of the song though, im not even sure if "North Platte" even means anything because the third verse uses "six miles north of South Platte" and it doesnt even seem like south platte even exists.
I can see the whole sperm and egg theory and the song revolving around several people. One who watches the history channel with a panel of experts explaining the hard journey of the sperm to the egg, and explaining to whoever is watching that they should have died before they two substances collided.
The second and third verses could about two different people. One is most likely a truck driver which explains the "streched out on the tarmac" as an 18 wheeler carrying 16 tons of hazmat. OR, he could be running from something or someone, the 16 tons of hazmat could be a metaphor for a lot of problems of some sort. This would tie with the next verse as he is trying to forget his problems with drugs, and he is in the bathroom with a sack full of coke or pills or something, wishing he had his life back before all the problems led him to run away. He could also be the one who was watching the history channel and reflecting on his life. Maybe he thought it was a waste after all, on all accounts he really should have died before he came to be.
Of course theres the line "over imbibed under the mister/barely alive we cover the blisters in flannel" suggests maybe the subject was burnt. The word imbibed could mean to soak up a liquid or to consume a liquid. Perhaps soaking up the water from the mister. I don't know what the flannel is for. "The words we speak are banal/not one of thems a lie" could be from the panel of experts again. They do speak without "freshness or originalty", but most of the time they speak the truth, i mean, they are the experts for a reason.
Another interesting point is that in the opening and closing verse, andrew bird uses the word "we" instead of "I", but in the second and third verses he tells a story of a specific person. I better stop thinking too much about it, or i'm not going to enjoy the song anymore