Both as a standalone and as part of the DSOTS album, you can take this lyric as read. As a matter of public record, Jourgensen's drug intake was legendary even in the 1980s. By the late 90s, in his own words, he was grappling with massive addiction issues and had lost almost everything: friends, spouse, money and had nearly died more than once. "Dark Side of the Spoon" is a both funny & sad title for an album made by a musical genius who was losing the plot; and this song is a message to his fans & friends saying he knows it. It's painful to listen to so I'm glad the "Keith Richards of industrial metals" wised up and cleaned up. Well done sir.
While we're on the subject
Could we change the subject now?
I was knocking on your ear's door, but you were always out
Looking towards the future
We were begging for the past
Well, we know we had the good things
But those never seemed to last
Oh, please just last
Everyone's unhappy
Everyone's ashamed
Well, we all just got caught looking
At somebody else's page
Well, nothing ever went
Quite exactly as we planned
Our ideas held no water
But we used them like a dam
Oh, and we carried it all so well
As if we got a new position
Oh, and I laugh all the way to hell
Saying, "Yes, this is a fine promotion"
Oh, and I laugh all the way to hell
Of course everyone goes crazy
Over such and such and such
We made ourselves a pillar
We just used it as a crutch
We were certainly uncertain
At least, I'm pretty sure I am
Well, we didn't need the water
But we just built that, good God damn
Oh, and I know this of myself
I assume as much for other people
Oh, and I know this of myself
We've listened more to life's end-gong
Than the sound of life's sweet bells
Was it ever worth it?
Was there all that much to gain?
Well, we knew we missed the boat
And we'd already missed the plane
We didn't read the invite
We just dance at our wake
All our favorites were playing
So we could shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
Tiny curtain's open, and we heard the tiny clap of little hands
A tiny man would tell a little joke, and get a tiny laugh from all the folks
Sitting, drifting around in bubbles, and thinking it was us that carried them
When we finally got it figured out, that we had truly missed the boat
Oh, and we carried it all so well
As if we got a new position
Oh, and we owned all the tools ourselves
But not the skills to make a shelf with
Oh, what useless tools ourselves
Could we change the subject now?
I was knocking on your ear's door, but you were always out
Looking towards the future
We were begging for the past
Well, we know we had the good things
But those never seemed to last
Oh, please just last
Everyone's unhappy
Everyone's ashamed
Well, we all just got caught looking
At somebody else's page
Well, nothing ever went
Quite exactly as we planned
Our ideas held no water
But we used them like a dam
Oh, and we carried it all so well
As if we got a new position
Oh, and I laugh all the way to hell
Saying, "Yes, this is a fine promotion"
Oh, and I laugh all the way to hell
Of course everyone goes crazy
Over such and such and such
We made ourselves a pillar
We just used it as a crutch
We were certainly uncertain
At least, I'm pretty sure I am
Well, we didn't need the water
But we just built that, good God damn
Oh, and I know this of myself
I assume as much for other people
Oh, and I know this of myself
We've listened more to life's end-gong
Than the sound of life's sweet bells
Was it ever worth it?
Was there all that much to gain?
Well, we knew we missed the boat
And we'd already missed the plane
We didn't read the invite
We just dance at our wake
All our favorites were playing
So we could shake, shake, shake, shake, shake
Tiny curtain's open, and we heard the tiny clap of little hands
A tiny man would tell a little joke, and get a tiny laugh from all the folks
Sitting, drifting around in bubbles, and thinking it was us that carried them
When we finally got it figured out, that we had truly missed the boat
Oh, and we carried it all so well
As if we got a new position
Oh, and we owned all the tools ourselves
But not the skills to make a shelf with
Oh, what useless tools ourselves
Lyrics submitted by ripelivejam, edited by asjniem, sheionizes, passionatesleepyhead, RocketFall, tejedu, Ye Olde Gangsta
Missed The Boat Lyrics as written by Isaac Brock Eric Judy
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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Ok, I'm gonna try to interpret this song from a more philosophical standpoint - something I haven't noticed in the comments I've read. lines 1-4: implied breakdown in communication. Someone wants to change the subject, and one person isn't giving the other person's comments serious thought. But why? 5-8: nostalgic longing for the past, specifically a desire for something that lasts. Maybe the stubbornness from before reflects our human resistance to change. Stuck in a life where everything around us is changing, don't we try to remain constant? 11-12: instead of directing our own lives, we often follow in other's footsteps. This is understandably easier, but we shouldn't accept things blindly for the sake of simplicity. 15-16: Although there's sometimes no substance to our ideas/beliefs we manage to use them as defense mechanisms, warding off ideas that challenge our own beliefs. 17-18: We convince ourselves that our ideas are unique, and not inherited/accepted 19-21: ironic blindness of the direction our beliefs are taking us 24-25: our position is "injured" but we use our accepted beliefs to keep it propped up 26-29: We deny life's uncertainties as we cling to our dogmas ("God dam"/"pillar" are probably attacking religion in particular) 30-32: Assumption that what you "know" about yourself must apply to everyone else 33-34: More attention paid to death/after-life than life 35-36: Are our pursuits really significant? 37-42: these line could be looked at positively or negatively. Missing plane/boat could be a decision against following a group. Death could be symbolic rather than literal - death of stubborn dogmatic self. The tone is pretty positive.
44-46: Death is end of play. Actors/audience all diminutive. We ask ourselves deep questions and project significance onto life. But, panning out, we see we're just little creatures. The "we" of the song become gods to these little creatures, but human, imperfect, erring gods. 47-51: humans are regrettably imperfect, and its hard to build a firm platform to stand on with confidence. But a platform admitting instability is better than one posing as a dogma