This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
We watch the sun switching in the sky, off and on, where
Our friend stands bleeding on the late summer lawn, a
Slicked back bloody black gunshot to the head.
He has fallen in the valley of the rock and roll dead.
I hear a breeze that wheezes through the tips of the pines,
Where there's laughter and screaming to the rafters in the night.
The moon rolls dreaming through the late spring sky,
Where our friend lies bleeding through his jacket and tie.
A slit throat makes a note like a raw winter wind.
We were piled in the river with the rock and roll skinned.
Like the water loves lapping at the skin of the shore, hear
Our friend come tapping at the latches on the door. Like a
Foot slips, slapping on the ladder's last rung, we were
Thrashing in the clatter of the rock and roll hung.
It's just a loud crowd crush. It's just a thrush, seen flying
Through the late autumn dusk for the very last time.
It's just a busted-up body in the dust of the last road out of the city,
When the city explodes.
Light grows, and the light grows bright, and red-tinged.
We were fallen on the border with the rock and roll singed.
Times ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times
Ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times ten.
Our friend stands bleeding on the late summer lawn, a
Slicked back bloody black gunshot to the head.
He has fallen in the valley of the rock and roll dead.
I hear a breeze that wheezes through the tips of the pines,
Where there's laughter and screaming to the rafters in the night.
The moon rolls dreaming through the late spring sky,
Where our friend lies bleeding through his jacket and tie.
A slit throat makes a note like a raw winter wind.
We were piled in the river with the rock and roll skinned.
Like the water loves lapping at the skin of the shore, hear
Our friend come tapping at the latches on the door. Like a
Foot slips, slapping on the ladder's last rung, we were
Thrashing in the clatter of the rock and roll hung.
It's just a loud crowd crush. It's just a thrush, seen flying
Through the late autumn dusk for the very last time.
It's just a busted-up body in the dust of the last road out of the city,
When the city explodes.
Light grows, and the light grows bright, and red-tinged.
We were fallen on the border with the rock and roll singed.
Times ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times
Ten. Times ten. Times ten. Times ten.
Add your thoughts
Log in now to tell us what you think this song means.
Don’t have an account? Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. It’s super easy, we promise!
More Featured Meanings
Bron-Y-Aur Stomp
Led Zeppelin
Led Zeppelin
When We Were Young
Blink-182
Blink-182
This is a sequel to 2001's "Reckless Abandon", and features the band looking back on their clumsy youth fondly.
Blue
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
“Blue” is a song about a love that is persisting in the discomfort of the person experiencing the emotion. Ed Sheeran reflects on love lost, and although he wishes his former partner find happiness, he cannot but admit his feelings are still very much there. He expresses the realization that he might never find another on this stringed instrumental by Aaron Dessner.
Amazing
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran tells a story of unsuccessfully trying to feel “Amazing.” This track is about the being weighed down by emotional stress despite valiant attempts to find some positivity in the situation. This track was written by Ed Sheeran from the perspective of his friend. From the track, we see this person fall deeper into the negative thoughts and slide further down the path of mental torment with every lyric.
Page
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
There aren’t many things that’ll hurt more than giving love a chance against your better judgement only to have your heart crushed yet again. Ed Sheeran tells such a story on “Page.” On this track, he is devastated to have lost his lover and even more saddened by the feeling that he may never move on from this.
What could this mean? Incredulous. 1 stanza about a gunshot suicide, 1 about a slit throat, 1 about a hanging, and the last about the surging of the city. Haven't we all been tamed by rock and roll?
Why does it have to be a gunshot suicide? Most gunshots to the head are not suicides.
"Times ten, ten again, then another ten million. Falling in the valley of the rock and roll dead"
I think thehungrybear has the gist of it. I get a picture of a lifestyle that chews people up and spits them out, but which nonetheless has its own strange, irresistable momentum carrying people along.
We get the sense, through the seasonal metaphors sprinkled throughout, that this is a cycle of destruction. Notice, though, that the seasons are mentioned backwards: summer, spring, winter, autumn. The implication seems to be that the "cycle" of the music world is unnatural and pernicious, but nonetheless beyond the control of those caught up in it.
The turbulent lifestyle that is "rock and roll." High risk, high reward.
This album starts with a frenetic pace. I'm not sure where it's going and its hard to swallow for the concept album lover of OR. Definitely influenced by their time spent with Roky, I'm going to give this album 5-10 listens start to finish and see if I get a better opinion. So far, a few really good, moody debonair tracks. This is one that gets the blood going though.