Techno Ted may be a person who caused Chris incredible emotional pain & trepidation as well as moments of peace & happiness but now is removed and awaiting his fate. Darling may be a different person who is also free of him and can live her life free of Ted's tyranny. "In between all the laughing, and daydreams ... lies: a desert of truth" Lies are like a desert or the omission of Truth: Where there were Lies then Truth was absent. The song, "Techno Ted", may be a cathartic celebration of the downfall of this person.
Go through solid stages not noticing me.
Hands hold tightly.
No one shares.
Go through solid stages not noticing me.
Hands hold tightly.
No one shares.
Doll it up!
At the rate the paint is peeling off
the wall, we'll need to cover it!
Before it all falls apart!
Oh, it'll all fall apart.
Truss it up!
At the rate the skin is sloughing off
our bones,
they'll need to bury us.
Because we all fall apart.
Yeah, we all fall apart.
The open mouths of these rooms are connected
by a hallway, dark and narrow,
that we pass through like marrow
through bone.
And we do it alone.
I miss the point and wish
I still didn't dream.
A taste gone mad, a sweet sadness,
my favorite feeling.
The whispering walls sound like
an endless corridor
and at this rate, all the paint is peeling off the walls.
And all I want to do is chase it
(before it all falls apart)
down the hall made out of frozen faces.
Expressionless, eyes to the ground
and lips locked tight,
ever so quiet, ever so quiet.
And I never choose to taste hallucinations
of what I've seen.
Because I don't see the difference between
chasing ghosts in dreams and chasing dreams in life.
Doll it up!
All the ones still close to us are the ones
that most of us still don't see.
Still don't see the way.
I would have thought that it could be
the sympathetic solution,
disillusion.
And if I stayed or left would you
notice more or less of my existence?
Out of the corner of my eye,
I see the ghost stutter-stepping like strobe lights,
ever-inching closer, but always out of reach.
So I hold my breath and keep it under my tongue
and wait until both of my lungs are filled.
If I count to ten, will it all go away?
Brushed aside or pushed aside:
a difference in tension, intention and force applied.
Cast aside or passing by people
as canvases: blank outside and bleak inside.
We learned (and it caused other things asunder)
to stay (and avoiding all the turmoil)
out of the way of each other.
Just stay out of the way!
Always colliding with the things that
we had tried hard to avoid we just bury them,
close our eyes, cover it up.
But what was buried managed to unlock the door
even though we had boarded them,
nailed them shut, hid the keys.
Will we (in for it now) ever (board up the house)
find happiness, clarity, peace of mind?
Follow me down the hallway.
If I should take a fall, don't look back.
Pick a door.
Any door.
Any door!
NOW!
And now we sit in what was
built on our dreams.
A space, now sad, speaks madness,
attempts concealing the crumbling walls.
It feels like our time is getting short.
And it's too late cause all the paint is lying on the floor.
Did we selfishly erase it?
(And we have all ignored the fault.)
Busy filling mirrors with our damn faces?
Circling flaws that we find without respite.
What do we find? What do we find?
And in the meantime, all the vultures
circle us in hopes to feed.
Because they don't see the difference between
death disguised as life and life with lifeless eyes.
Doll it up!
All the ones still close to us are the ones
that most of us still don't see, the way.
I would have thought that it could be
the sympathetic solution,
disillusion.
Because we all fall apart!
Oh, we all fall apart!
The open mouths close!
Hands hold tightly.
No one shares.
Go through solid stages not noticing me.
Hands hold tightly.
No one shares.
Doll it up!
At the rate the paint is peeling off
the wall, we'll need to cover it!
Before it all falls apart!
Oh, it'll all fall apart.
Truss it up!
At the rate the skin is sloughing off
our bones,
they'll need to bury us.
Because we all fall apart.
Yeah, we all fall apart.
The open mouths of these rooms are connected
by a hallway, dark and narrow,
that we pass through like marrow
through bone.
And we do it alone.
I miss the point and wish
I still didn't dream.
A taste gone mad, a sweet sadness,
my favorite feeling.
The whispering walls sound like
an endless corridor
and at this rate, all the paint is peeling off the walls.
And all I want to do is chase it
(before it all falls apart)
down the hall made out of frozen faces.
Expressionless, eyes to the ground
and lips locked tight,
ever so quiet, ever so quiet.
And I never choose to taste hallucinations
of what I've seen.
Because I don't see the difference between
chasing ghosts in dreams and chasing dreams in life.
Doll it up!
All the ones still close to us are the ones
that most of us still don't see.
Still don't see the way.
I would have thought that it could be
the sympathetic solution,
disillusion.
And if I stayed or left would you
notice more or less of my existence?
Out of the corner of my eye,
I see the ghost stutter-stepping like strobe lights,
ever-inching closer, but always out of reach.
So I hold my breath and keep it under my tongue
and wait until both of my lungs are filled.
If I count to ten, will it all go away?
Brushed aside or pushed aside:
a difference in tension, intention and force applied.
Cast aside or passing by people
as canvases: blank outside and bleak inside.
We learned (and it caused other things asunder)
to stay (and avoiding all the turmoil)
out of the way of each other.
Just stay out of the way!
Always colliding with the things that
we had tried hard to avoid we just bury them,
close our eyes, cover it up.
But what was buried managed to unlock the door
even though we had boarded them,
nailed them shut, hid the keys.
Will we (in for it now) ever (board up the house)
find happiness, clarity, peace of mind?
Follow me down the hallway.
If I should take a fall, don't look back.
Pick a door.
Any door.
Any door!
NOW!
And now we sit in what was
built on our dreams.
A space, now sad, speaks madness,
attempts concealing the crumbling walls.
It feels like our time is getting short.
And it's too late cause all the paint is lying on the floor.
Did we selfishly erase it?
(And we have all ignored the fault.)
Busy filling mirrors with our damn faces?
Circling flaws that we find without respite.
What do we find? What do we find?
And in the meantime, all the vultures
circle us in hopes to feed.
Because they don't see the difference between
death disguised as life and life with lifeless eyes.
Doll it up!
All the ones still close to us are the ones
that most of us still don't see, the way.
I would have thought that it could be
the sympathetic solution,
disillusion.
Because we all fall apart!
Oh, we all fall apart!
The open mouths close!
Lyrics submitted by crowleyyy, edited by wearecured
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Techno Ted
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In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
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The chorus offers a glimmer of optimism and a chance at a resolution and redemption in the future.
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Great version of a great song,
I think he is comparing himself to the house that is falling apart. He compares the paint peeling to flesh decaying and the hallways to his bones. To me, this song is about getting so caught up in your problems and unhappiness that you let everything else in your life go to shit. The ghost stutter stepping is like how we feel our demons haunting us, ever inching closer but always out of reach, and our reaction is to hope it goes away.
Here he is just trying to ignore his problems or bury them to protect himself: "Always colliding with the things that we had tried hard to avoid we just bury them, close our eyes, cover it up. But what was buried managed to unlock the door even though we had boarded them, nailed them shut, hid the keys."
Here he sees all the paint has fallen off the walls (showing his life falling apart) and he asks if this happened due to neglect when he was focusing on his flaws, deep in insecurity. Then he says that while he is caught up in his problems, he has decayed even further and isn't really living anymore (because the vultures are waiting for him to die).: "It feels like our time is getting short. And it's too late cause all the paint is lying on the floor. Did we selfishly erase it? (And we have all ignored the fault.) Busy filling mirrors with our damn faces? Circling flaws that we find without respite, what do we find? What do we find? And in the meantime, all the vultures circle us in hopes to feed."
So basically, don't get so deep into your head worrying about everything because you wont notice everything else falling apart around you, and you'll essentially stop living. Constantly worrying about past mistakes will wear you down and make you forget what life is really about, and what the future can hold for you.