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.
Lists of swinging fists that nobody saw,
that were slicing through air
at the foot of a stair in a bar,
make beds of busted heads,
pillowed and puffed.
In some quiet and cordoned emergency ward
they left us.
So we always demurred
when an ill-advised word
from some enemy's ill-equipped tongue
sizzled and burned at our backs.
So we learned to dodge.
I guess we lost!
Staring down the cliffs
with my crew-cut,
I had turned twenty-three
and believed I was dangerous.
Lists of swinging hips down in the clubs
were holding their swerve
(I am perfectly sure) for us.
And a photograph says what a photograph is --
Holy shit were our faces so young!
and all pissed and thin-lipped
as we tippled and tripped. It was fun.
I guess we're done!
Lies and flying flies sapping our blood,
We fall down, sliding
down, slipping,
slamming the ground: We are fucked.
And I went down to the mystic,
all head-ached and heart-sick,
in line with the beggars and bums,
paid his price, and he slurred
"My advice is to turn and to run!"
I guess we're dumb.
Gather around, partygoers,
(that's if you're still living,
and not wasted, washed-up, watered down,
and not dead or death-wishing).
Because the trumpets can't blow.
The professional driver got lost.
The ruler and priests, from the highest
to least, have been lined up and shot.
How I prayed and I hoped
it would lead to some moment
when all of it just flew apart.
How I wished and I schemed it, from whisper to scream.
How I wanted to just hold your heart
in the palm of my hand,
and just watch as it slows
and it stops.
Call the cops!
We're star-crossed.
We've gone numb.
Well, it was fun!
But I guess we lost.
I guess we're done.
that were slicing through air
at the foot of a stair in a bar,
make beds of busted heads,
pillowed and puffed.
In some quiet and cordoned emergency ward
they left us.
So we always demurred
when an ill-advised word
from some enemy's ill-equipped tongue
sizzled and burned at our backs.
So we learned to dodge.
I guess we lost!
Staring down the cliffs
with my crew-cut,
I had turned twenty-three
and believed I was dangerous.
Lists of swinging hips down in the clubs
were holding their swerve
(I am perfectly sure) for us.
And a photograph says what a photograph is --
Holy shit were our faces so young!
and all pissed and thin-lipped
as we tippled and tripped. It was fun.
I guess we're done!
Lies and flying flies sapping our blood,
We fall down, sliding
down, slipping,
slamming the ground: We are fucked.
And I went down to the mystic,
all head-ached and heart-sick,
in line with the beggars and bums,
paid his price, and he slurred
"My advice is to turn and to run!"
I guess we're dumb.
Gather around, partygoers,
(that's if you're still living,
and not wasted, washed-up, watered down,
and not dead or death-wishing).
Because the trumpets can't blow.
The professional driver got lost.
The ruler and priests, from the highest
to least, have been lined up and shot.
How I prayed and I hoped
it would lead to some moment
when all of it just flew apart.
How I wished and I schemed it, from whisper to scream.
How I wanted to just hold your heart
in the palm of my hand,
and just watch as it slows
and it stops.
Call the cops!
We're star-crossed.
We've gone numb.
Well, it was fun!
But I guess we lost.
I guess we're done.
Lyrics submitted by Kozumou
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I've been listening to this one over and over. Not to sound like an obscurist, but I think this may be better than anything on I Am Very Far, and I love I Am Very Far.