So this has been.my favorite song of OTEP's since it came out in 2004, and I always thought it was a song about a child's narrative of suffering in an abusive Christian home. But now that I am revisiting the lyrics, I am seeing something totally new.
This song could be gospel of John but from the perspective of Jesus.
Jesus was NOT having a good time up to and during the crucifixion. Everyone in the known world at the time looked to him with fear, admiration or disgust and he was constantly being asked questions. He spoke in "verses, prophesies and curses". He had made an enemy of the state, and believed the world was increasingly wicked and fallen from grace, or that he was in the "mouth of madness".
The spine of atlas is the structure that allows the titan to hold the world up. Jesus challenged the state and in doing so became a celebrated resistance figure. It also made him public enemy #1.
All of this happened simply because he was doing his thing, not because of any agenda he had or strategy.
And then he gets scourged (storm of thorns)
There are some plot holes here but I think it's an interesting interpretation.
old man, i heard some things about the boy you used to be.
no father, no king, just a broken old man broken by the whiskey.
too afraid to stay, too smart to not leave,
too young to be a bird who forgot to sing,
and a ground that never knew the knees
of a boy and his own tale of two cities.
"sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend
when his youth is a wound time won't mend.
(never the best of times)
sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend
at the thought of peace as something only lent.
(only the worst of mine)
sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend
when his son is another one who won't understand":
the irish temper, it's history's chains,
and the bottle's stain that just won't wash away.
but a seed was planted in the sod of nothingness from which you came,
and flowers grew and roses bloomed
to form this garden of a life you've made.
And in this city you once knew as hell
is a garden where i enjoy myself.
And in this father I hardly know
was a son who took back what the bottle stole
so i could be the boy you couldn't be
have the father you didn't get to see
have the youth you did not get to live
or feel the love this world forgot to give.
And for this gift i don't deserve to get
i'll make damn sure i earn this.
"o' your friends say boston's beautiful,
but they didn't live here, they didn't die here
in the Hyde Park years.
o' your friends say boston's beautiful,
but they didn't live hard, they didn't die hard
when sons dragged out their fathers from bars.
o' your friends say boston's beautiful,
but they didn't dream here, they didn't scream here
when no one hears.
o' your friends say boston's beautiful,
but they didn't hide here, they didn't cry here
when little boys weren't allowed to shed their tears."
there just aren't enough men like you.
no father, no king, just a broken old man broken by the whiskey.
too afraid to stay, too smart to not leave,
too young to be a bird who forgot to sing,
and a ground that never knew the knees
of a boy and his own tale of two cities.
"sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend
when his youth is a wound time won't mend.
(never the best of times)
sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend
at the thought of peace as something only lent.
(only the worst of mine)
sometimes a man breaks, sometimes he can't bend
when his son is another one who won't understand":
the irish temper, it's history's chains,
and the bottle's stain that just won't wash away.
but a seed was planted in the sod of nothingness from which you came,
and flowers grew and roses bloomed
to form this garden of a life you've made.
And in this city you once knew as hell
is a garden where i enjoy myself.
And in this father I hardly know
was a son who took back what the bottle stole
so i could be the boy you couldn't be
have the father you didn't get to see
have the youth you did not get to live
or feel the love this world forgot to give.
And for this gift i don't deserve to get
i'll make damn sure i earn this.
"o' your friends say boston's beautiful,
but they didn't live here, they didn't die here
in the Hyde Park years.
o' your friends say boston's beautiful,
but they didn't live hard, they didn't die hard
when sons dragged out their fathers from bars.
o' your friends say boston's beautiful,
but they didn't dream here, they didn't scream here
when no one hears.
o' your friends say boston's beautiful,
but they didn't hide here, they didn't cry here
when little boys weren't allowed to shed their tears."
there just aren't enough men like you.
Lyrics submitted by HomerunHenry
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