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i'm not who, with my eyes from stage, i claim to be,
i've only cradled death in my own ending,
flesh from far off and abstracted lit
candle wick flickering
and when a thing starts finishing around me,
i faint or fake a moustache, an accent, or flee,
in fear my expired license be pulled by sheer proximity
fact: the poseur in the bowler gets shot first,
thinks he's the shit cause he can spit and curse,
actin' brash and flashin' a pistol that squirts,
scowling, and shouting, "shall we dance?"
should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse?
mom, am i failing or worse?
mom, am i failing?
what should these earnest hands be holding?
still sportin' my ex-girlfriend's dead ex-boyfriend's boxers,
i wanna operate from a base of hunger,
no longer be ashamed and hide my
tears in shower water while i lather for pleasure
i wanna speak at an intimate decibel
with the precision of an infinite decimal,
to listen up and send back a true echo
of something forever felt but never heard
i want that sharpened steel of truth in every word
the small fry in the bow tie dies first,
acting wild like the spirit of god moving after church,
faking he's hard like he's packed down dirt,
already, and yelling, "be my guest"
should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse?
mom, am i failing or worse?
mom, am i failing?
what should these earnest hands be holding?
should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse?
mom, am i failing or worse?
mom, am i failing?
what should these earnest hands be holding?
i've only cradled death in my own ending,
flesh from far off and abstracted lit
candle wick flickering
and when a thing starts finishing around me,
i faint or fake a moustache, an accent, or flee,
in fear my expired license be pulled by sheer proximity
fact: the poseur in the bowler gets shot first,
thinks he's the shit cause he can spit and curse,
actin' brash and flashin' a pistol that squirts,
scowling, and shouting, "shall we dance?"
should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse?
mom, am i failing or worse?
mom, am i failing?
what should these earnest hands be holding?
still sportin' my ex-girlfriend's dead ex-boyfriend's boxers,
i wanna operate from a base of hunger,
no longer be ashamed and hide my
tears in shower water while i lather for pleasure
i wanna speak at an intimate decibel
with the precision of an infinite decimal,
to listen up and send back a true echo
of something forever felt but never heard
i want that sharpened steel of truth in every word
the small fry in the bow tie dies first,
acting wild like the spirit of god moving after church,
faking he's hard like he's packed down dirt,
already, and yelling, "be my guest"
should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse?
mom, am i failing or worse?
mom, am i failing?
what should these earnest hands be holding?
should our heroes hands be holding this blackest purse?
mom, am i failing or worse?
mom, am i failing?
what should these earnest hands be holding?
Lyrics submitted by shitscold
Track duration: 05:16
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Thank you.
You are brilliant, and your work has changed me.
He worries that by carrying on the pose (like the bowler hat and bow tie posers), he's "failing" his mom (setting a bad example), or "worse" (pandering to teens tendency to think suicidal nihilists are cool).
Yoni denounces himself, and sets a new goal for his now "earnest" hands, no longer to carry that "blackest purse" of the poser death cult, but instead to focus on the TRUTH: the "sharpened steel of truth in every word."
This song is a manifesto for honesty in art.
He feels the need to project himself in a certain way in order to impress his mom, his girlfriend, his fans, and everyone else, but really it's not who he is or who he wants to be. He wants to be able to be truthful, to speak honestly, but at the same time he feels obligated to not let anyone down.
I don't really think he's afraid of death itself in this song, in terms of physically dying, but i do see a fear of the death of his true self.
He seems afraid that eventually, if he never speaks up and continues on this path, he'll simply just become the person everyone wants him to be........just as the "poser" and "man in the bowtie" did first, the people who tried to act like someone else......while his true self will cease to exist.
He's becoming the person everyone wants him to be, and he knows that's not who he truly is or who he wants to be, but he can't bring it in himself to let everyone else down.
That's what I feel anyway.
It's kind of like that saying "never meet your idols".
I guess I'm more literal but he's talking about maybe catching that person you idolize in a bad act.
It's like your hero running down the street while holding a purse that he's stolen.
And if you're a kid and you meet eyes with him and you see this crime he's committed,
I can't help but think that purse will be the blackest purse you've ever seen.
He might even be comparing himself to the poser in the bowler or the smallfry in the bowtie, as he states that he's really a poser himself "i'm not who, with my eyes from stage, i claim to be"
so he himself would be the one to kick the bucket first.
And if he's this "hero", Yoni knows he's gonna bite it first
yet, his own poser ways will bring him back to running away from situations when they come up.
even though he comes off as being brutally honest all the time, maybe Yoni feels he's still a fake because maybe not all of what he's spitting at us is true. or maybe it is true but he's bending and hiding things for some unknown reason.
however, we know he wants to "speak at an intimate decibel", which makes him at least worthy of something.
that's pretty much all i got.