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Shit Twins

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Shit Twins Lyrics

There is a chest
of skin, of drawers,
with pictures of waterspouts
coming out from the ocean and into the mainland
where you once lived
before
when you were younger
before
you learned how to hope, want, or wish.

Your step became unsteady once,
even more,
every time you would stand on shrapnel.
(Under your feet.)
There was a growth under your skin,
an addition of pride,
for your newfound wasteland

But even worse,
the future you see,
the future you bring,
the future you are completely okay with.
I could wait up sick,
waiting for a response,
I could wait up waiting for anything,
and it’s something that you’re completely okay with.

You've been standing outside of my apartment,
With your mouth open wide, and I haven't heard enough of it.

Tell me, tell me, Miranda,
where do you see yourself tomorrow?
Do you worry each Wednesday,
when the week is almost over,
where you will sleep
where you will sleep
your sanctuary is Missouri in May,
and I still insist on cutting my tongue off.

You've been standing outside of my apartment,
With your mouth open wide, and I haven't heard enough of it.

I will not speak of
the crash,
cause if it is never spoken of,
then history will never know it happened.
If it is never written about,
then no one can ever read it.
If it is never talked about,
then no one can ever hear it.

Do we know the truths
Of every broken step?
Only if it's told,
forgotten when it's old,
undesired and cold,
there is no story to be sold.

(we'll say)

We'll say
we'll meet up in some hotel room,
be it fancy or pay by the hour,
and we'll comfort each other
like we used to in our time,
you'll say it'll be just like the old days
but it won't be the fucking old days
no it won't be the fucking old days,
only now with our broken parts,
our overused and torn up pieces.
Will it be better than before?
Will it be better than before?
Do we thank our practice with others,
or will it be tarnished by exact thought?
Will it be better than before?
Will it be better than before?

Submitted by

sporadicsarcasm On Jul 24, 2012

There is a chest 
of skin, of drawers, 
with pictures of waterspouts 
coming out from the ocean and into the mainland 
where you once lived 
before 
when you were younger 
before 
you learned how to hope, want, or wish.

Your step became unsteady once, 
even more, 
every time you would stand on shrapnel. 
(Under your feet.) 
There was a growth under your skin, 
an addition of pride, 
for your newfound wasteland

But even worse, 
the future you see, 
the future you bring, 
the future you are completely okay with. 
I could wait up sick, 
waiting for a response, 
I could wait up waiting for anything, 
and it’s something that you’re completely okay with.

You've been standing outside of my apartment, 
With your mouth open wide, and I haven't heard enough of it.

Tell me, tell me, Miranda, 
where do you see yourself tomorrow? 
Do you worry each Wednesday, 
when the week is almost over, 
where you will sleep 
where you will sleep 
your sanctuary is Missouri in May, 
and I still insist on cutting my tongue off.

You've been standing outside of my apartment, 
With your mouth open wide, and I haven't heard enough of it.

I will not speak of 
the crash, 
cause if it is never spoken of, 
then history will never know it happened. 
If it is never written about, 
then no one can ever read it. 
If it is never talked about, 
then no one can ever hear it.

Do we know the truths
Of every broken step? 
Only if it's told, 
forgotten when it's old, 
undesired and cold, 
there is no story to be sold.

(we'll say)

We'll say 
we'll meet up in some hotel room, 
be it fancy or pay by the hour, 
and we'll comfort each other 
like we used to in our time, 
you'll say it'll be just like the old days 
but it won't be the fucking old days 
no it won't be the fucking old days, 
only now with our broken parts, 
our overused and torn up pieces. 
Will it be better than before? 
Will it be better than before? 
Do we thank our practice with others, 
or will it be tarnished by exact thought? 
Will it be better than before? 
Will it be better than before?

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sporadicsarcasm

Submitter

2012-07-24 05:09:44

1 Meaning

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by poppunked

13y ago

I think this song is about a guy who is reunited with an ex that has changed and become very promiscuous.

There is a chest of skin, of drawers, with pictures of waterspouts coming out from the ocean and into the mainland where you once lived before when you were younger before you learned how to hope, want, or wish.

--Basically he's got all of these memories of her before she changed.

Your step became unsteady once, even more, every time you would stand on shrapnel. (Under your feet.) There was a growth under your skin, an addition of pride, for your newfound wasteland

--She has become someone cold and empty and she's proud of it.

But even worse, the future you see, the future you bring, the future you are completely okay with. I could wait up sick, waiting for a response, I could wait up waiting for anything, and it’s something that you’re completely okay with.

--He is worried for her future but she's completely fine and accepting of her fate.

You've been standing outside of my apartment, With your mouth open wide, and I haven't heard enough of it.

--My interpretation of this is that she is coming to him with her mouth "open wide" meaning that she is basically offering herself to him sexually but he wants more.

Tell me, tell me, Miranda, where do you see yourself tomorrow? Do you worry each Wednesday, when the week is almost over, where you will sleep where you will sleep your sanctuary is Missouri in May, and I still insist on cutting my tongue off.

--"Cutting my tongue off." referring to him staying silent about her sleeping around.

You've been standing outside of my apartment, With your mouth open wide, and I haven't heard enough of it.

I will not speak of the crash, cause if it is never spoken of, then history will never know it happened. If it is never written about, then no one can ever read it. If it is never talked about, then no one can ever hear it.

--If he ignores the reasoning that things between them the first time then he can pretend that those events never happened.

Do we know the truths Of every broken step? Only if it's told, forgotten when it's old, undesired and cold, there is no story to be sold.

(we'll say)

We'll say we'll meet up in some hotel room, be it fancy or pay by the hour, and we'll comfort each other like we used to in our time, you'll say it'll be just like the old days but it won't be the fucking old days no it won't be the fucking old days, only now with our broken parts, our overused and torn up pieces. Will it be better than before? Will it be better than before? Do we thank our practice with others, or will it be tarnished by exact thought? Will it be better than before? Will it be better than before?

--They plan to meet and hook up, but it will be completely different and he knows that. They're both damaged from the first time. They'll both have had other partners and he isn't sure to be thankful that the sex is better or if it tears him up inside knowing that she has been with someone else. He is just trying to figure out if things could work out better this time around.

My Interpretation