This song describes me in every possible way. The sound reminds me of my childhood. A lot of it was spent alone. I liked it that way. The intricate simplicity of being left to my own devices, with my imagination to keep me occupied.
The whole song 'feels' as this:
Blocks.
Colours.
I'm special.
Build.
Sound.
It moves.
Imagine.
Myself.
Those around me.
Atmospheric control.
Build.
I have time.
I'm special.
I have time.
I'm special.
I have time... I have time... I have time...
Don't lie.
Make it true.
And... I have time.
To imagine.
Build.
Imagine building.
It isn't fuctional.
It isn't malleable.
It's stored away.
I haven't built anything.
Imagining is safe.
False success.
But...
I haven't built anything.
And I don't have time.
The meaning, and lyrics to me, are this:
"Kid A"
I slipped away
I slipped on a little white lie
I frequently lie about things. Small things, such as what I've had for dinner, how I'm feeling, what I plan on doing with myself. Whether or not I did this, or that, or how I'm going to do it. Why I'm going to do it. The meaning behind it. Lying has become so integrated into me that I find it hard to distinguish myself from the truth. I've lied for as long as I can remember to hide from people the fact that I'm not as brave, or as self reliant, or as intelligent as they might believe me to be. I've lost a lot of friends, and they've lost a lot of faith in me over it.
It's funny... I don't lie when I write. I can sit and take the time to understand the meaning of my actions. Maybe I lie because things just move too fast, and I'm afraid that I'm not quick enough to catch up with everyone else around me.
We got heads on sticks
You got ventriloquists
We got heads on sticks
You got ventriloquists
My mind is like a balloon filled with sand and stuck in a little stick body. My head is heavy with substance, but it's all the same material; it's all grainy. This mind has done a lot more than this body has, and I'm out of proportion with myself. If the balloon keeps growing, eventually the stick is going to snap under the weight of it all. I need balance.
It feels like everyone around me is separate from the voice that controls themselves. They speak through puppets with little nutcracker mouths. I feel like I'm talking to an inanimate object being controlled by the greater force of the person within it. What would the world look like if people were more than just the masters of their own puppetry? Would it make the world better to see people as they really are?
I have a puppet, too... but it's mouth doesn't move when it's supposed to. I'm speaking out of sync with my emotional and physical front. I don't know if that's healthy. Is it? Am I healthy?
Is it everyone else who's sick?...
Standing in the shadows at the end of my bed [x4]
I spend hours in my room with the lights off, a cloth over the computer light, listening to the same song again and again, for hours. I imagine.
I imagine a line of people waiting at a stream, and one by one, they unscrew the tops of their heads and pour water into the stream. The water is glittery, and looks like it's lit from the inside out. If someone were to put their head under the water they'd see a wave of memories. Everyone takes their turn until the stream is full of water.
I imagine somewhere else, the water has dried up, and the trees are dead, and the animals lick at the mud. Someone sees this and a journey is made. Everyone replenishes the stream with their minds.
Somewhere else the water has dried up, and the trees are dead. A journey is made, and the stream is filled half full.
Somewhere else the water has dried up, and the trees are dead; a journey is made. The stream is filled a fourth of the way.
They return home. The journey has ended. The trees have withered, the animals are dead, and the stream is bone dry. And they have nothing left to replenish it with.
And then I turn on the lights, and with all the ideas I have, and everything I've seen, I make no artistic interpretation. I write down nothing. I don't know what to build... or even how to build it.
Rats and children follow me out of town
Rats and children follow me out of town
Come on kids...
Someday I hope to inspire people. I hope to change the world for the better, for the children and the rats. But it's up to them to leave the safety of their town, and it's up to them to build their own futures. Their own happiness. And that's where I am truly stuck. If I feel this way about myself and about the things around me. If I'm struggling not to view things with such a dismal light... then I can't even imagine how the rest of the world feels. Or maybe I can. We must all be terrified in some way or another.
It just doesn't feel right. Streams are drying up everywhere.
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7RwvZSfLUXM[/youtube]
So that's my song. And that's why it's my song. I feel like Kid A. I feel like Kid B and C, too.
_________________
I'm a crab in a lobster world.
04 Feb 2012, 8:54 pm
