So this has been.my favorite song of OTEP's since it came out in 2004, and I always thought it was a song about a child's narrative of suffering in an abusive Christian home. But now that I am revisiting the lyrics, I am seeing something totally new.
This song could be gospel of John but from the perspective of Jesus.
Jesus was NOT having a good time up to and during the crucifixion. Everyone in the known world at the time looked to him with fear, admiration or disgust and he was constantly being asked questions. He spoke in "verses, prophesies and curses". He had made an enemy of the state, and believed the world was increasingly wicked and fallen from grace, or that he was in the "mouth of madness".
The spine of atlas is the structure that allows the titan to hold the world up. Jesus challenged the state and in doing so became a celebrated resistance figure. It also made him public enemy #1.
All of this happened simply because he was doing his thing, not because of any agenda he had or strategy.
And then he gets scourged (storm of thorns)
There are some plot holes here but I think it's an interesting interpretation.
Oh the story's told been told retold
From the sacred scriptures to the tabloids
All the fuss and fight none above a whisper
The soul of gold the belly of a boy
Well they drew him from the forest
Like they draw blood
Tied him to a tree like St. Sebastian
And he turned his head and let the arrows fly
Through the trees, the trees
The ornamental leaves
Boy cried wolf
Wolf don't come
Wolf within
Boy cried wolf
In the ancient mold they're dancing down
Calling to the moon but it don't answer
And they fell on their knees
and passed the bowl around
And the blood the blood the sacramental blood
Boy cried wolf
Wolf don't come
Wolf within
Boy cried wolf
I am the body I am the stream
I am the wake of everything
They bring me flowers that are myself
Garlands of blood that are myself
Slain the lamb that is himself
Torn reborn the cries of our dismay
Are nothing to the wind but whose to mind
Kings are lifted up and kings are thrown
Lost received retrieved
The human tide
Innocence had its day
Innocence had its day
Innocence innocence
From the sacred scriptures to the tabloids
All the fuss and fight none above a whisper
The soul of gold the belly of a boy
Well they drew him from the forest
Like they draw blood
Tied him to a tree like St. Sebastian
And he turned his head and let the arrows fly
Through the trees, the trees
The ornamental leaves
Boy cried wolf
Wolf don't come
Wolf within
Boy cried wolf
In the ancient mold they're dancing down
Calling to the moon but it don't answer
And they fell on their knees
and passed the bowl around
And the blood the blood the sacramental blood
Boy cried wolf
Wolf don't come
Wolf within
Boy cried wolf
I am the body I am the stream
I am the wake of everything
They bring me flowers that are myself
Garlands of blood that are myself
Slain the lamb that is himself
Torn reborn the cries of our dismay
Are nothing to the wind but whose to mind
Kings are lifted up and kings are thrown
Lost received retrieved
The human tide
Innocence had its day
Innocence had its day
Innocence innocence
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Along with my previous, here is another of my viewpoints.
If innocence had its day, how do we get that back? History, told and retold, of our long fruitless search, often looking to the earth herself. Druidic human sacrifice (legend has it, inspiration for Christmas ornaments, and traditional red and white). Dancing and crying to the moon, flowers and garlands of blood. But the earth is the earth. Powerless, like cries to the wind.
But one image stands out: "Slain the lamb that is himself." (Or as sung Slain is the lamb that is myself / Pray to the lamb that is himself). All before was certainly futile. But this?
It takes me back… To a King lifted, a King thrown: tied to a tree like Saint Sebastian, turned his head willingly, painfully as the points drove in… And the human tide, Lost, now received, finally, finally… retrieved...
-Pie