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.
Don't know if I believe in god
But sometimes I pray
Because the way I was raised
Keeps me afraid
A scientist that has to have his way
I subsist of a steady diet of shame
I hope I can forgive me
For having the nerve to exist
I hope someone can help me
Make some sense of this
I work a ten hour grave
From nine to seven
And I can't fall asleep
Until eleven past eleven
There's no drug that I can take
That will keep me from being awake
Past my, past my bedtime
Truckers are the blood in the veins of the body of America
States are the arms and the legs and the brains and the eyes
There's a disease spreading from organ to organ
And you are the white blood cell that fixes the problem
You don't know your own power
You don't know what you're worth
You don't recognize your valor
And until you do, nothing you do will matter
But sometimes I pray
Because the way I was raised
Keeps me afraid
A scientist that has to have his way
I subsist of a steady diet of shame
I hope I can forgive me
For having the nerve to exist
I hope someone can help me
Make some sense of this
I work a ten hour grave
From nine to seven
And I can't fall asleep
Until eleven past eleven
There's no drug that I can take
That will keep me from being awake
Past my, past my bedtime
Truckers are the blood in the veins of the body of America
States are the arms and the legs and the brains and the eyes
There's a disease spreading from organ to organ
And you are the white blood cell that fixes the problem
You don't know your own power
You don't know what you're worth
You don't recognize your valor
And until you do, nothing you do will matter
Lyrics submitted by WorldStrike
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I want "eleven past eleven" to be a Defiance, Ohio reference!