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.
dose one:
empty things...
she's calling, she's calling me tonight,
from just inside my lips and i'll write her.
betterment of the world through wish,
wish i'd fall off, growing distant.
i'll write her,
and pull my face fresh from the waxy palms it's kept soft in.
why?:
there's something to the fading of faith.
my whole childhood was the broken guitar
and my sister's silly yellow blanket.
now i carry slender and sexy curved sledge hammers
to break the bricks i bought.
i should have never went to college,
but took a trip to costa rica to cut rainforests to choke myself.
dose one:
making up miss bobafetet as i go along,
why?:
and rejecting the truths that i've been served.
dose one:
fool in...
besides, tuition for my countenance
pressed fine in reverse block, style print,
a product of cave drawings gone automated
with these loafers and a check book,
twisted tightly into, into..i know,
a stiletto.
dose one and why?:
do you know how many times
i've thought about writing about the paper i'm writing on?
why?:
i lost my liquid tongue for the wet pen.
dose one:
i have one mortal wish.
why?:
i don't even know where i've been...
in the basement, hugging the gas main.
something's been left out of this game.
god, did you remember to render everything?
i've seen 1078 sundays and seven borders where the liquid meets land.
i've even seen stars, now where the fuck (now where the fuck)
is anti-emptiness? (is anti-emptiness)
dose one:
i'm leaking into stoned and severed existence.
why?:
i've been consumed by my own breath.
illogic:
change of face, shapeless, personality switch, transformation,
so impersonation of self leads crowds in twos to disintegration.
who's in the basement choking a puppet on the pedestal?
let a stool pigeon escort those who contort three doors down
into the left door on the right hand side.
my hand slides into pockets, pull sockets of lead penalty.
orbs of red energy,
entering the orbit of the morbid
northern and southern hemispheres of play caps.
place time bombs and rose stems on your axle.
clear case. hole in faded ozone layer of doom,
sphere of babylon shield,
towering above gravity,
taking up space in a residence of stars.
dose one:
a touching story of ungrateful velcro skulled boy,
with his tored-off face,
and the life-sized sacked marionette
he'd thought looked an awful lot like him,
with his time told and mildewed baby clothes of a business man.
jerk, wackoff slumped, and he's tired, sick with bad posturing.
one can't hold in. oh hell, there's a king of jungle in him yet.
give our young lad middle of america's valise,
but spare the gauze, he's losing poet by the gallon. glory, glory,
bottom of the quicksand's gonna give him a whole lot less to think about,
than change that steel trap perspective would perhaps...
i ain't a scared no more, to make a' the difference,
stolen heart, and a whole wide world to blame.
why?:
i've been living in a record skipped filmstrip.
i'm falling off the side of the boat and when i hit water,
i'm falling off the side of the boat.
i fall asleep hoping tomorrow tastes like poems and honeysuckle.
i move slow 'cause the sky looks bluer when you fuck the order of the day
or the way the shelves were meant to fit.
i wish i had a pair of stilts to wear
while i play the flute in some light-traffic hallway in my old high school.
but these are only threats to the seated self.
maybe spain is the open-faced smile
from some life i saw in a movie, and always thought i'd live.
dose one:
jackpot!
illogic:
congratulations!
why?:
space is potent.
empty things...
she's calling, she's calling me tonight,
from just inside my lips and i'll write her.
betterment of the world through wish,
wish i'd fall off, growing distant.
i'll write her,
and pull my face fresh from the waxy palms it's kept soft in.
why?:
there's something to the fading of faith.
my whole childhood was the broken guitar
and my sister's silly yellow blanket.
now i carry slender and sexy curved sledge hammers
to break the bricks i bought.
i should have never went to college,
but took a trip to costa rica to cut rainforests to choke myself.
dose one:
making up miss bobafetet as i go along,
why?:
and rejecting the truths that i've been served.
dose one:
fool in...
besides, tuition for my countenance
pressed fine in reverse block, style print,
a product of cave drawings gone automated
with these loafers and a check book,
twisted tightly into, into..i know,
a stiletto.
dose one and why?:
do you know how many times
i've thought about writing about the paper i'm writing on?
why?:
i lost my liquid tongue for the wet pen.
dose one:
i have one mortal wish.
why?:
i don't even know where i've been...
in the basement, hugging the gas main.
something's been left out of this game.
god, did you remember to render everything?
i've seen 1078 sundays and seven borders where the liquid meets land.
i've even seen stars, now where the fuck (now where the fuck)
is anti-emptiness? (is anti-emptiness)
dose one:
i'm leaking into stoned and severed existence.
why?:
i've been consumed by my own breath.
illogic:
change of face, shapeless, personality switch, transformation,
so impersonation of self leads crowds in twos to disintegration.
who's in the basement choking a puppet on the pedestal?
let a stool pigeon escort those who contort three doors down
into the left door on the right hand side.
my hand slides into pockets, pull sockets of lead penalty.
orbs of red energy,
entering the orbit of the morbid
northern and southern hemispheres of play caps.
place time bombs and rose stems on your axle.
clear case. hole in faded ozone layer of doom,
sphere of babylon shield,
towering above gravity,
taking up space in a residence of stars.
dose one:
a touching story of ungrateful velcro skulled boy,
with his tored-off face,
and the life-sized sacked marionette
he'd thought looked an awful lot like him,
with his time told and mildewed baby clothes of a business man.
jerk, wackoff slumped, and he's tired, sick with bad posturing.
one can't hold in. oh hell, there's a king of jungle in him yet.
give our young lad middle of america's valise,
but spare the gauze, he's losing poet by the gallon. glory, glory,
bottom of the quicksand's gonna give him a whole lot less to think about,
than change that steel trap perspective would perhaps...
i ain't a scared no more, to make a' the difference,
stolen heart, and a whole wide world to blame.
why?:
i've been living in a record skipped filmstrip.
i'm falling off the side of the boat and when i hit water,
i'm falling off the side of the boat.
i fall asleep hoping tomorrow tastes like poems and honeysuckle.
i move slow 'cause the sky looks bluer when you fuck the order of the day
or the way the shelves were meant to fit.
i wish i had a pair of stilts to wear
while i play the flute in some light-traffic hallway in my old high school.
but these are only threats to the seated self.
maybe spain is the open-faced smile
from some life i saw in a movie, and always thought i'd live.
dose one:
jackpot!
illogic:
congratulations!
why?:
space is potent.
Lyrics submitted by fridgebuzz
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Lost childhood. That's what this song always seemed like to me. All of Why?'s verses are talking about his past, the things he used to cherish ("My whole childhood was the broken guitar, and my sister's silly yellow blanket"), and the way he used to see the world ("I saw in a movie and always thought I'd live...")
He's clearly gotten past it, but he still seems to look back on it. He's in an apartment now; no families making sure he does everything... Fuck it. I can't explain it.
Childhood.