Surf's Up

Here are my thoughts on this song...

First up, the title. Surf's Up. A surfing analogy - but this song has nothing to do with surfing. It's about the collapse of everything. Look around you, today. Two thousand years ago, the end of the Roman Empire. Collapse. No helpful situation, that's damn sure. Surf's Up! The end! So long, farewell. Also the second intention - the surfing intention, where the wave is at its zenith (interestingly, only Dennis surfed). Here comes what I think about the rest of this song.

A pawn? A key, yet small part in an investigation, of sorts, this being about the breakdown in a certain niche, quirk of society. A monument standing tall in stature, yet small when destroyed so cruelly.

A blind aristocracy? Those who are high up but oblivious of their situation. They being the upper-class owners of the metaphorical diamond necklace - the equivalent Brahmins and doubtless the Kshatriyas among today's multi-ethnic society. Empires of many, creating many strata within society. Back through the opera glass. The panes (sic) of time past. People look through blinkers at their life. They never know what they can do, what they expect of themselves, what they think they shall achieve tomorrow, let alone next time.

Tragedy strikes. Societal pain. Colonaded ruins domino, those which seemed so strong after such time, finally buckle under very little pressure. The pit and the pendulum. A bottomless desire/passion and a timed destruction. Almost to the point where this was a painful play. Act one, the pain. Anguish, despair, call it what you want. Who's making the best of this? That to come.

All is over. Lost in the dawns of time. An unspoken time - one where stillness of spirit was going to prevail. Now awake, aware to responsibility, this person knows what has happened. All has been lost. Vanished, forever. Music, empirations of a lost age. "Muted trumpeter swans"... even they are outraged by this happening. They, naturally, have no power, no voice to speak out among the masses.

Another hour passes. The strike of a bell, and the moon striking a shadow on the floor. No longer to keep goodbyes in theory, as the moon glazes over a foggy night sky. The dances. The metaphorical parties, those that haven't yet taken place, and the well-wishes for those loved for whom we save our last wellmeaning goodbyes.

A background forever changed by tragedy. No time to say goodbye, no time to laugh ones last mature laugh, as a well-meaning adult, who had much to say, but little in due to respect his or her own feelings. Time for one final dance, party, knees-up - whatever. Auld Lang Syne (sign, not zyne), a farewell to old, and an embracement of new. The children, the loved, the treasured.

Even he, a man, feels moved by this destruction. The last drink, the last nourishment before mans last choke of breath. It's unbelievable. Astonishing. The end.

Up among such sweet sweet wishes of yesterday. A joie de vivre never seen by adults, but visible in the words, the breaths, the songs of the children. And there comes their song.

The child is the father of the man.

Teachings of love, of praise for what we have, of appreciation for what we can do, and of never trying to give up. Determination by the young to do anything they can. No way are they going to take half measures. They love to expand their minds, and finding happiness through the suffering, are the real winners. They, at least, have love for a hardened world. Hardened by the end as is known for us right now, but the start of a new, happy generation. You can never lose what you're not conscious of having, and, as such, they are happy to get on with what they can while they can.

So that does it, for my explanation. Anyone else, theirs would be very welcome. Please, I'm curious as to what others think.