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California Lyrics
Fuck California
You made me boring
I bled all blood out
But these red pants they don't show that
My old friends though they know that
And when I sold them I sold that
I'm sorry Gracie girl you're golden
I'm sorry Steven and Andrew
That I ever left you
You never seen the ocean
You never been on a plane
Schizophrenia rules the brain
Aliens coming to take you away
You're still my favorite
Past Life Martyred Saint
Gimme the places I'll give you the names
Wasted away alone on the plains
What's it like to be small-town and gay?
Fuck it baby I know you'll never change
So hold me down but I got it
Quick hit to the face
Soft blow to the mouth
On Christmas morning
You're bleeding from the fingertips
You rubbed me raw you rubbed me wrong
And I heave when I think of you
Oh! California
Now you've corrupted us all
With your sexuality
Tried to tell me love was free
Tried to tell me love was free
Us and them baby
You You You You You and Me
Oh Love! In the time of scandal
Love in the form of tragedy
Love so much so real so fucked it's 5150
But I'm just 22 and I don't mind dyin
What does failure taste like?
To me it tastes like dirt
And I'm beggin you please to look away
I bet my money on the bob-tail nag,
somebody bet on the bay
I saw Joseph carrying the gun
I saw Mary carrying the gun
The Gun The Gun The Gun
The Gun carrying The Gun
I saw Grandpa
carrying The Gun
I saw Grandma
Carrying The Gun
The Gun The Gun The Gun
The Gun carrying The Gun
I used to carry The Gun
The Gun The Gun The Gun
The Gun carrying The Gun
You made me boring
I bled all blood out
But these red pants they don't show that
My old friends though they know that
And when I sold them I sold that
That I ever left you
You never seen the ocean
You never been on a plane
Schizophrenia rules the brain
Aliens coming to take you away
You're still my favorite
Past Life Martyred Saint
Gimme the places I'll give you the names
Wasted away alone on the plains
What's it like to be small-town and gay?
Fuck it baby I know you'll never change
Quick hit to the face
Soft blow to the mouth
On Christmas morning
You rubbed me raw you rubbed me wrong
And I heave when I think of you
With your sexuality
Tried to tell me love was free
Tried to tell me love was free
Us and them baby
You You You You You and Me
Love in the form of tragedy
Love so much so real so fucked it's 5150
To me it tastes like dirt
And I'm beggin you please to look away
somebody bet on the bay
I saw Mary carrying the gun
The Gun The Gun The Gun
The Gun carrying The Gun
carrying The Gun
I saw Grandma
Carrying The Gun
The Gun The Gun The Gun
The Gun carrying The Gun
The Gun The Gun The Gun
The Gun carrying The Gun
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I love this song. I don't think I've ever heard anything like it. It's definitely my favorite on the album so far, it's so haunting and gorgeous. I love the way she says "What's it like to be small-town and gay?" and "What does failure taste like? / To me it tastes like dirt / And I'm beggin you please to look away". I love the pain in her voice, usually voices stay more or less emotionless and it's the words and melody and the range in the voice that gives the song its emotion but I can hear the pain in just her voice, even ignoring words or melody or range. Just her voice. And I like it.
I agree with everything you've said. I love this song and I'm not sure but I hope that she talking somewhat about herself. It seems like such a personal song, and I love how she says sorry to her friends who she left behind in the beginning. She is from South Dakota so maybe she is talking about herself.
I agree with everything you've said. I love this song and I'm not sure but I hope that she talking somewhat about herself. It seems like such a personal song, and I love how she says sorry to her friends who she left behind in the beginning. She is from South Dakota so maybe she is talking about herself.
Hoo boy, where to even start with this one. Too brilliant to interpret, I feel like I'd be doing it a disservice to do anything other than let it wash over me. Anyone who thinks poetry is a dead art form needs to hear this.
The greatest line to me is "love so much so real so fucked it's 5150." I had to Google it, but 5150 is a California Welfare and Institutions Code for "involuntary psychiatric hold." Using that as a definition of love is brilliant.
in california when the cops take someone away for being crazy it's referred to as a 5150, from that code. That's how the number is in the popular lexicon, it's known from people being arrested
in california when the cops take someone away for being crazy it's referred to as a 5150, from that code. That's how the number is in the popular lexicon, it's known from people being arrested
Anderson wrote this at the very end of the two years in California since The Gowns fell apart, feeling creatively drained and ready to return to her parent's basement in South Dakota. Fortunately for us, she realized that the anger and despair and pain she thought was keeping her from moving forward was, in itself, a new way forward.
Hopefully her post-California days have been as fulfilling and cathartic for her as they have been for us.