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.
Riddle me this, brother can you handle it
Your style to my style, you can't hold a candle to it
Equinox symmetry and the balance is right
Smokin' and drinkin' on a Tuesday night
It's not how you play the game, it's how you win it
I cheat and steal and sin and I'm a cynic
For those about to rock we salute you
The dirty thoughts for dirty minds we contribute to
I once was lost, but now I'm found
The music washes over and you're one with the sound
Well, who shall inherit the earth, the meek shall
And yo I think I'm starting to peak now Al
And then the man upstairs I hope that he cares
If I had a penny for my thoughts I'd be a millionaire
We're just three M.C.'s and we're on the go
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago)
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, yeah
Only twenty-four hours in a day
Only twelve notes that a man can play
Music for all and not just one people
And now we're gonna bust with the Putney Swope sequel
More Adidas sneakers than a plumber's got pliers
Got more suits than Jacoby & Meyers (well)
If not for my vices and my bugged-out desires
My year would be good just like Goodyear's tires
'Cause I'm out pickin' pockets at the Atlantic Antic
And nobody wants to hear you 'cause your rhymes are damn frantic
I mix business with pleasure way too much
You know, wine and women and song and such
I don't get blue, I gotta mean red streak
You don't pay the band, your friends and that's weak
Get even like Steven, like pulling a Rambo
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago)
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, yeah
Steal from the rich and I'm out robbing banks
Give it to the poor and I always give thanks
Because they got more stories than J.D's got Salinger
I hold the title and you are the challenger
I've got money like Charles Dickens
I've got the girlies in the Couple like the Colonel's got the chickens
And I always go out dapper like Harry S. Truman
I'm madder than Mad's Alfred E. Newman
(Never gonna let them say that I don't love you)
Well, my noggin is hoggin' all kinds of thoughts
Adam Yoggin is Yauch and he's rockin' of course
Smoke the holy chalice got my own religion
Rally round the stage and check the funky dope musicians
Just like Jerry Lee Swaggert or Jerry Lee Falwell
You like Mario Andretti cause he always drives his car well
Vicious circle of reality since the day you were born
And we love the hot butter on what, the popcorn
Sippin' on wine and mackin'
Rockin' on the stage with all the hands clappin'
Ride the wave of fate it don't ride me
(Being very proud to be an M.C.)
And the man upstairs well I hope that he cares
If I had a penny for my thoughts I'd be a millionaire
Amps and crossovers under my rear hood
The bass is bumpin' from the back of my Fleetwood
They tell us what to do, hell no
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago) hey
Your style to my style, you can't hold a candle to it
Equinox symmetry and the balance is right
Smokin' and drinkin' on a Tuesday night
It's not how you play the game, it's how you win it
I cheat and steal and sin and I'm a cynic
For those about to rock we salute you
The dirty thoughts for dirty minds we contribute to
I once was lost, but now I'm found
The music washes over and you're one with the sound
Well, who shall inherit the earth, the meek shall
And yo I think I'm starting to peak now Al
And then the man upstairs I hope that he cares
If I had a penny for my thoughts I'd be a millionaire
We're just three M.C.'s and we're on the go
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago)
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, yeah
Only twenty-four hours in a day
Only twelve notes that a man can play
Music for all and not just one people
And now we're gonna bust with the Putney Swope sequel
More Adidas sneakers than a plumber's got pliers
Got more suits than Jacoby & Meyers (well)
If not for my vices and my bugged-out desires
My year would be good just like Goodyear's tires
'Cause I'm out pickin' pockets at the Atlantic Antic
And nobody wants to hear you 'cause your rhymes are damn frantic
I mix business with pleasure way too much
You know, wine and women and song and such
I don't get blue, I gotta mean red streak
You don't pay the band, your friends and that's weak
Get even like Steven, like pulling a Rambo
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago)
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, yeah
Steal from the rich and I'm out robbing banks
Give it to the poor and I always give thanks
Because they got more stories than J.D's got Salinger
I hold the title and you are the challenger
I've got money like Charles Dickens
I've got the girlies in the Couple like the Colonel's got the chickens
And I always go out dapper like Harry S. Truman
I'm madder than Mad's Alfred E. Newman
(Never gonna let them say that I don't love you)
Well, my noggin is hoggin' all kinds of thoughts
Adam Yoggin is Yauch and he's rockin' of course
Smoke the holy chalice got my own religion
Rally round the stage and check the funky dope musicians
Just like Jerry Lee Swaggert or Jerry Lee Falwell
You like Mario Andretti cause he always drives his car well
Vicious circle of reality since the day you were born
And we love the hot butter on what, the popcorn
Sippin' on wine and mackin'
Rockin' on the stage with all the hands clappin'
Ride the wave of fate it don't ride me
(Being very proud to be an M.C.)
And the man upstairs well I hope that he cares
If I had a penny for my thoughts I'd be a millionaire
Amps and crossovers under my rear hood
The bass is bumpin' from the back of my Fleetwood
They tell us what to do, hell no
Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego (Shadrach, Meshach, Abednago) hey
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