In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
Lying in her bed a brick fell on her head.
Plaster finally crumbled and dropped it's load.
Oh oh.
Now the building was condemned.
Recycled, used again.
The brick that smashed her brain is now a road in
Maine.
When the pressure is way way down, the water comes out
brown.
It was on television they took her brain uptown.
Fearing (peace?) would poison her, some abstract
modern saint.
A painting or a sculpture or a cultural restraint.
Inner City Spillover.
Where the big time ticks.
Royal Rose's ovens, have to warm, what the furnace
skips.
Inner City Spillover.
Pop the scene.
Inner City Spillover.
Isle of dreams.
Inner City Spillover.
Workmen on the beam.
Lying on her bed a brick fell on her head.
You find the ace of hearts and win.
It's easy man!
At a higher school of knowledge, they put her brain in
college.
Replacement parts and slippery cards will come around
again.
The writings on the wall.
Statesmen say it all.
With the art wars on and the colors crash long long
before the fall.
One out of these three cards will definitely up the
odds.
Find the red heart, red to win.
Drop on in.
Time out and time in all the suckers play it again by
the Broadway Babies and the island men and the
hotshots gamblin'.
Inner City Spillover.
Pops and picks.
Inner City Spillover.
Where the big time ticks.
Inner City Spillover.
Isle of dreams.
Inner City Spillover.
Workmen on the beam.
Inner City Spillover.
Subway riders fight.
Newsmen uncover more horrors to describe.
Ok sweetheart, pull over, where'd you learn to drive?.
Angels eye the people over, ai ai ai ai ai ai ai ai!.
Inner City Spillover.
Where the big time ticks.
Royal Rose's ovens, have to warm, what the furnace
skips.
Inner City Spillover.
Pop the scene.
Inner City Spillover.
Workmen on the beam.
Plaster finally crumbled and dropped it's load.
Oh oh.
Now the building was condemned.
Recycled, used again.
The brick that smashed her brain is now a road in
Maine.
When the pressure is way way down, the water comes out
brown.
It was on television they took her brain uptown.
Fearing (peace?) would poison her, some abstract
modern saint.
A painting or a sculpture or a cultural restraint.
Inner City Spillover.
Where the big time ticks.
Royal Rose's ovens, have to warm, what the furnace
skips.
Inner City Spillover.
Pop the scene.
Inner City Spillover.
Isle of dreams.
Inner City Spillover.
Workmen on the beam.
Lying on her bed a brick fell on her head.
You find the ace of hearts and win.
It's easy man!
At a higher school of knowledge, they put her brain in
college.
Replacement parts and slippery cards will come around
again.
The writings on the wall.
Statesmen say it all.
With the art wars on and the colors crash long long
before the fall.
One out of these three cards will definitely up the
odds.
Find the red heart, red to win.
Drop on in.
Time out and time in all the suckers play it again by
the Broadway Babies and the island men and the
hotshots gamblin'.
Inner City Spillover.
Pops and picks.
Inner City Spillover.
Where the big time ticks.
Inner City Spillover.
Isle of dreams.
Inner City Spillover.
Workmen on the beam.
Inner City Spillover.
Subway riders fight.
Newsmen uncover more horrors to describe.
Ok sweetheart, pull over, where'd you learn to drive?.
Angels eye the people over, ai ai ai ai ai ai ai ai!.
Inner City Spillover.
Where the big time ticks.
Royal Rose's ovens, have to warm, what the furnace
skips.
Inner City Spillover.
Pop the scene.
Inner City Spillover.
Workmen on the beam.
Lyrics submitted by annazoff
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