This is a hauntingly beautiful song about introspection, specifically about looking back at a relationship that started bad and ended so poorly, that the narrator wants to go back to the very beginning and tell himself to not even travel down that road. I believe that the relationship started poorly because of the lines:
"Take me back to the night we met:When the night was full of terrors: And your eyes were filled with tears: When you had not touched me yet"
So, the first night was not a great start, but the narrator pursued the relationship and eventually both overcame the rough start to fall in love with each other:
"I had all and then most of you"
Like many relationships that turn sour, it was not a quick decline, but a gradual one where the narrator and their partner fall out of love and gradually grow apart
"Some and now none of you"
Losing someone who was once everything in your world, who you could confide in, tell your secrets to, share all the most intimate parts of your life, to being strangers with that person is probably one of the most painful experiences a person can go through. So Painful, the narrator wants to go back in time and tell himself to not even pursue the relationship.
This was the perfect song for "13 Reasons Why"
The speakeasy parlor was filled with many a fair lady,
Fallen victim to another mind rape by their Christian fathers.
"It was never easy to show them I loved them,"
He said as He was removed from the booth.
No one had the time to listen to Him,
They don't care!
It wasn't His thing to talk like that,
Waking up the next day
In a nightmare of a grey colored room full of friends
With no names and metal as cold as, as cold as hell.
This was yet another favorite of His,
Concious effort was put into everything that He didn't do
And everything else was a failed plan.
Why didn't this work!?
Why didn't this work?!
If only gratitude could get you somewhere.
If only gratitude could get you somewhere!
Censor His bleeding hands, broken teeth and blood-red hair.
This is His love to them all.
Yet another day blessed with His presence!
Continue to beat Him, this is His love!
Censor His bleeding hands, broken teeth and blood-red hair.
This is His love.
Not another day blessed with His presence!
Continue to beat Him, this is His love!
Coughing up His mother's love all over a plate of refurbished organisms,
This is His love!
Coughing up His mother's love all over a plate of refurbished organisms,
This is His love!
Oh Mother Mary, forgive them, for they have won.
They have won!
Oh Mother Mary, forgive them, for they have won.
They have won!
Spoken fast enough to spark a memory into everyone's tired mind!
Built upon a cross of clothes and thorns of wrinkled scarves,
And hung from a ceiling, and sent to every child's living room.
Built upon a cross of clothes and thorns of wrinkled scarves,
And hung from a ceiling, and sent to every child's living room!
Depictions of life as told by a subdued body within us all.
We aren't loved anymore.
Behold, the white whore.
Fallen victim to another mind rape by their Christian fathers.
"It was never easy to show them I loved them,"
He said as He was removed from the booth.
No one had the time to listen to Him,
They don't care!
It wasn't His thing to talk like that,
Waking up the next day
In a nightmare of a grey colored room full of friends
With no names and metal as cold as, as cold as hell.
This was yet another favorite of His,
Concious effort was put into everything that He didn't do
And everything else was a failed plan.
Why didn't this work!?
Why didn't this work?!
If only gratitude could get you somewhere.
If only gratitude could get you somewhere!
Censor His bleeding hands, broken teeth and blood-red hair.
This is His love to them all.
Yet another day blessed with His presence!
Continue to beat Him, this is His love!
Censor His bleeding hands, broken teeth and blood-red hair.
This is His love.
Not another day blessed with His presence!
Continue to beat Him, this is His love!
Coughing up His mother's love all over a plate of refurbished organisms,
This is His love!
Coughing up His mother's love all over a plate of refurbished organisms,
This is His love!
Oh Mother Mary, forgive them, for they have won.
They have won!
Oh Mother Mary, forgive them, for they have won.
They have won!
Spoken fast enough to spark a memory into everyone's tired mind!
Built upon a cross of clothes and thorns of wrinkled scarves,
And hung from a ceiling, and sent to every child's living room.
Built upon a cross of clothes and thorns of wrinkled scarves,
And hung from a ceiling, and sent to every child's living room!
Depictions of life as told by a subdued body within us all.
We aren't loved anymore.
Behold, the white whore.
Lyrics submitted by iLL Ronald
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I wanna say it's about Jesus, but I'd probably be wrong.
Like a Jesus like figure. I dunno. It makes allusions to him, but then again it leads you to believe other things.