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Good Fashion Lyrics
Dark lenses tint the windows that are under my eyelids
To hide from the light like I'm stuck in a fire pit
Burning up inside with no desire to live through these lies
So I suffer in silence
Culture of violence
Truth stuck behind my lips
Bound, gagged, and whipped
Stripped, divided, and split
Eating words with a forked tongue
And now the grumble of my stomach's got the thump of a war drum
There's a battle going on inside nobody's safe from
Clowns are playing Russian Roulette with paint guns
They run in place, and they call it the human race
Losing pace with that stupid look on their face
Shooting blanks
And all they ask is why I wear these glasses
And all I can tell em is "Hell, it's good fashion"
All they ask is why I wear these glasses And all I can tell em is Hell
We're acting like men of steel with a thin protective shield
Gathering the raw footage that can never make the final reel
So we cover up the stories that eyes tell
Make way for what we take to the grave
It doesn't bide well with souls
Buried in a Faustian bargain bin
In the cemetary there's a joust between God and Men
Talking loud, but ain't saying nothing
Used to have daily discussions
Now I doubt we'll ever talk again
And all they ask is why I wear these glasses
And all I can tell em is "Hell, it's good fashion"
All they ask is why I wear these glasses And all I can tell em is hell
To hide from the light like I'm stuck in a fire pit
Burning up inside with no desire to live through these lies
So I suffer in silence
Culture of violence
Truth stuck behind my lips
Bound, gagged, and whipped
Stripped, divided, and split
Eating words with a forked tongue
And now the grumble of my stomach's got the thump of a war drum
There's a battle going on inside nobody's safe from
Clowns are playing Russian Roulette with paint guns
They run in place, and they call it the human race
Losing pace with that stupid look on their face
Shooting blanks
And all I can tell em is "Hell, it's good fashion"
All they ask is why I wear these glasses And all I can tell em is Hell
Gathering the raw footage that can never make the final reel
So we cover up the stories that eyes tell
Make way for what we take to the grave
It doesn't bide well with souls
Buried in a Faustian bargain bin
In the cemetary there's a joust between God and Men
Talking loud, but ain't saying nothing
Used to have daily discussions
Now I doubt we'll ever talk again
And all I can tell em is "Hell, it's good fashion"
All they ask is why I wear these glasses And all I can tell em is hell
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"buried in a Faustian bargain bin"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Faustian
" Dark lenses tint the windows that are under my eyelids To hide from the light like I'm stuck in a fire pit"
He opens the song in reference to his glasses; they're his blanket from the hell he sees. A good portion of this verse is a detail of what it is he hides from, both internally and externally. As it were, he's describing a hell on earth, the death of his innocence and inner sense...the glasses sheild him from the external, while doubling a sheild to protect those outside from the internal.
The chorus is typical of Sage's wordplay, where the addition of subtraction of a word can change the entire meaning of a phrase he writes.
Hell, it's Good Fashion...this refers to his inability to explain why he feels the need to protect himself, which is referenced in the second verse "that can never make the final reel."
He explains the need for his sunglasses in the repeat of the stanza, however, when he responds with "hell."
Essentially, the sunglasses are his sheild from hell, but "good fashion" is easier for those who speaks with to stomach.
Reminds me of wearing sunglasses at my sisters wedding after a long hard night of taking drugs the night before. "We're acting like men of steel with a thin protective shield Gathering the raw footage that can never make the final reel So we cover up the stories that eyes tell Make way for what we take to the grave"
Obviously about attending a funeral though ;)