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Fred sits alone at his desk in the dark
There's an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall
He's cleared all his things and he's put them in boxes
Things that remind him: 'Life has been good'
Twenty-five years
He's worked at the paper
A man's here to take him downstairs
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
There was no party, there were no songs
'Cause today's just a day like the day that he started
No one is left here that knows his first name
And life barrels on like a runaway train
Where the passengers change
They don't change anything
You get off; someone else can get on
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
Streetlight shines through the shades
Casting lines on the floor, and lines on his face
He reflects on the day
Fred gets his paints out and goes to the basement
Projecting some slides onto a plain white
Canvas and traces it
Fills in the spaces
He turns off the slides, and it doesn't look right
Yeah, and all of these bastards
Have taken his place
He's forgotten but not yet gone
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
There's an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall
He's cleared all his things and he's put them in boxes
Things that remind him: 'Life has been good'
Twenty-five years
He's worked at the paper
A man's here to take him downstairs
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
There was no party, there were no songs
'Cause today's just a day like the day that he started
No one is left here that knows his first name
And life barrels on like a runaway train
Where the passengers change
They don't change anything
You get off; someone else can get on
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
Streetlight shines through the shades
Casting lines on the floor, and lines on his face
He reflects on the day
Fred gets his paints out and goes to the basement
Projecting some slides onto a plain white
Canvas and traces it
Fills in the spaces
He turns off the slides, and it doesn't look right
Yeah, and all of these bastards
Have taken his place
He's forgotten but not yet gone
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
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Reminds me of Smithers-Jones by The Jam, both in name and subject matter.
We are all in danger of being forgotten about, as attention spans shorten and people become less and less interested in truly socializing and caring about others. Fred Jones is a sort of symptom of the problem. The most important question to me is, if the reference to death is correct, who is left to care that Fred Jones is gone? People who didn't even know his first name? The person who replaced him at his job?
This song will rip your heart out if you really give it a chance. This is something Ben Folds seems to understand very well, how to get deep into your heart and then twist. This isn't a knock at all, he's only using reality against you, but he makes you take notice of things that could easily be forgotten about, details that make up life.
There's an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall
He's cleared all his things and he's put them in boxes
Things that remind him: 'Life has been good'
Okay this stanza is saying how his time is up at his company and he's packed up and ready to leave. The awkward young shadow is the shadow of the man replacing him. Young because the company is replacing Fred with a younger person like many companies do. Awkward because he is taking his job. Also, he says life has been good, it hasn't been great, just good, average.
Twenty-five years
He's worked at the paper
A man's here to take him downstairs
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
So he's worked there a long time and if there is a man escorting him out of the building, it means he's not leaving on his terms, or good terms at that. He's worked there 25 years and if he's not leaving on good terms the company is obviously forcing him to quit.
There was no party, there were no songs
'Cause today's just a day like the day that he started
No one is left here that knows his first name
And life barrels on like a runaway train
Where the passengers change
They don't change anything
You get off; someone else can get on
No party, no songs shows that he wasn't appreciated at his office. This whole stanza shows how meaningless he was to the company and how he is not remembered for his 25 years of hard work. The runaway train being related to his life shows that his life has never been on track, and how its destined to crash. And once again, with the passengers its saying how he was not remembered throughout his life.
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
Streetlight shines through the shades
Casting lines on the floor, and lines on his face
He reflects on the day
This line shows that he returns to an empty house. The second two lines give you the feeling how he has no emotions really running through him, he's staring out into the night without any feeling showling on his face.
Fred gets his paints out and goes to the basement
Projecting some slides onto a plain white
Canvas and traces it
Fills in the spaces
He turns off the slides, and it doesn't look right
Yeah, and all of these bastards
Have taken his place
He's forgotten but not yet gone
The paints and canvas is a metaphor comparing paint by numbers to his life. He does the paint by numbers right and does it to make it look like its supposed to but when he looks back on it, it just doesn't look right.
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
And I'm sorry, Mr. Jones
It's time
Such a powerful song. I think he is due for a new album. I'll even take an iTunes exclusive EP at this point. :)
The first lines: "It's hard to imagine a man biting harder at the bit than Jerry Richardson. A man more devoted to his family than Jerry Richardson. A man happier than Jerry Richardson. At 58, he is part-owner of Fred Jones Automotive Group in Oklahoma City and officially retired as parts manager in October, though he still keeps an office at the giant Ford-Lincoln-Mercury-Mazda dealership's downtown headquarters so as not to overwhelm his wife, Joy."
Overwhelm his wife? I could see Ben thinking that this article misinterprets Richardson's situation, that he doesn't have that post-retirement office for his wife's sanity, but to keep himself busy doing something.