This song is so pretty, if you don't really pay attention, it'll end and you'll think, "Well, that was pleasant." I listened closer and thought, "My god, that poor man." Then I listened to it in the midst of a depressive episode and everything clicked together like tumblers in a lock.
Everything is gone but the echo of the burst of a shell
I can't think of anything but what triggered the depression.
And I'm stuck waiting for a passing feeling
My loved ones try to console me. - "It gets better." I know it does, but I
always end up like this again. The "better" part is the passing feeling.
In the city I built up and blew to hell
"the city I built up" is the fragile state of optimism I cobbled together at the insistence of those who convinced me to try, because, "It gets better." I "blew [it] to hell" when something triggered my depression and I wasn't strong enough to overcome it.
I'm stuck here waiting for a passing feeling
Again, I know it'll get better, but once it gets better, it will pass, and I'll be right back here again.
Still I send all the time
I try to help myself.
My request for relief
I try to convince myself that it really does get better.
Down the dead power lines
That thought process goes nowhere.
Though I'm beyond belief
They keep trying with me, in spite of the obvious truth that it's pointless.
In the help I require
It must be exhausting for the people who try to deal with my mental state.
Just to exist at all
Indeed. I only exist due to guilt.
Took a long time to stand
Working out of depression is incredibly difficult, and it takes a long time.
Just an hour to fall.
Falling back into it happens with ease and immediacy.
This song fires up the water works like nothing else. It makes me glad Elliott's dead for his sake, and envious of him at once.
This song is so pretty, if you don't really pay attention, it'll end and you'll think, "Well, that was pleasant." I listened closer and thought, "My god, that poor man." Then I listened to it in the midst of a depressive episode and everything clicked together like tumblers in a lock.
Everything is gone but the echo of the burst of a shell
And I'm stuck waiting for a passing feeling
In the city I built up and blew to hell
I'm stuck here waiting for a passing feeling
Still I send all the time
My request for relief
Down the dead power lines
Though I'm beyond belief
In the help I require
Just to exist at all
Took a long time to stand
Just an hour to fall.
This song fires up the water works like nothing else. It makes me glad Elliott's dead for his sake, and envious of him at once.