I'm Not Crying. You're Not Crying, Are You? Lyrics

Lyric discussion by SnareRushJunkie 

Cover art for I'm Not Crying. You're Not Crying, Are You? lyrics by Dear and the Headlights

Yeah, the lyrics posted match up 100% with the ones in the booklet.

This song is about becoming disillusioned with being on tour in a band.

"Did the seesaw nights put their hands on you? I can't really say, I can't really say

Are you swinging from the eaves in a tasteful noose? I can't really say, I can't really say" I'm guessing this is about the ups and downs of touring - "seesaw nights" probably means that some nights bring really good shows, while other nights are horrible. The swinging of the noose is another reference to the back and forth motion, and the "tasteful noose" is an oxymoron, another metaphor for the good and bad sides of touring.

"You're following a flashlight down utility halls And then you mumble to yourself that this has all been your fault And oh you're not laughing, you're not laughing are you?" The subject of the song (most likely the vocalist of a band) is following someone in the backstage area on the way to the stage, and blaming himself for starting his band and going on tour. He's not laughing like he thought he would be, because he's no longer enjoying being on tour.

"And now some local loser with a tape and badge Wants you to answer from the list of pointless questions to ask And no he's not sincere, you're not sincere are you?" A reporter is interviewing the vocalist, asking him a bunch of "pointless questions". The vocalist feels like the reporter doesn't really care about his band ("he's not sincere"), nor does he really care about answering the reporters questions ("you're not sincere").

"Then the howls and moans pour from the black and it's a sea of blank faces straight to the back Aggressively mediocre in every single way Yet you're the only reason that they came" The vocalist takes the stage. It sounds like the audience might either be angry at him ("howls and moans") or completely apathetic ("sea of blank faces"). He feels as though his music is nothing special ("aggressively mediocre"), but he's "the only reason that they (the audience) came".

"So if you had to keep singing then singing should be fine And if it ain't what you had pictured Yeah that sounds about right" The only thing the vocalist could do is continue to perform, even though being in a touring band isn't anything like he thought it would be.

"Does it matter much to me to mean a thing to you? I can't really say, I can't really say" The vocalist doesn't know if he really cares about affecting anyone with his music, which was presumably why he formed a band.

"They blather incessantly, every drossy last one And then they clamor for attention vomiting opinions But oh you weren't asking, you're not asking are you?" His fans continually tell him what their songs mean to him, but he feels as though their interpretations are completely incorrect - and he doesn't really care anyway.

"Ain't it hard when you discover that the only thing you've ever loved is passing your hat And anything that's got a pulse is doing just the same And you're the only reason that you came" The vocalist is depressed because he feels like he's only playing music to make money anymore, instead of being in it to move people emotionally ("the only thing you've ever loved is passing your hat"), and is also disillusioned when he finds out everyone else is doing the same thing ("anything that's got a pulse is doing just the same") - most likely this is a reference to record labels, promoters, venue owners, etc. The third line only solidifies the first - the only reason he's playing music anymore is to make money for himself.

I wondered when I bought this album if this was autobiographical, but after seeing Dear and the Headlights live last month, I highly doubt it. They seemed like some of the coolest, most genuine people in the world. They also appeared very happy and appreciative to be playing a show, even though the turnout was small (less than 80 people showed up).