lyrics:
There No poetry here
She said
We’d rather live in fear
With the thoughts in our heads
Lines are down
Go lay In your yard
without any clothes on
Keep the doors locked, son
There’s no poetry here
Your ancestors were ill
Drunk diabetics
There’s no poetry here
She said
It’s a Frigid wasteland
Of nightmares and sin
The car won’t start
Still there’s nowhere to go
Your oldest child
Has renounced even speaking to you
There’s no poetry here
She said
While grabbing her suitcase
My hands on my head
She packed us all
To foreign lands
But the trees were still trees
And her past was still her past
I just made a detailed analysis of these lyrics, then refreshed the page to hear the song again and all my notes disappeared . . . arrrgh Maybe I'd better just ask you what it's about. The music is compelling! The basic message though is that she's unhappy. She needs poetry, but the car won't start and there's nowhere to go. She's leaving anyway, packed everyone off to foreign lands . . . but it won't change anything. As Faulkner said, "The past is never dead. It's not even past." Bottom Line: Even a frigid wasteland is beautiful and full of the poetry we bring to it. Bottom Bottom Line: Covid is driving people crazy, but there's nowhere to go. Trauma is in the difficulties of the past. Anxiety is in the difficulties of the future. Peace is in the moments of the present. (Is that it?)
You nailed it! I was on Facebook and someone was complaining about living in Michigan. In fact, many of the lyrics are taken directly from their post. “Ill drunk diabetics,” and “no poetry here.” It was just begging to be a song. But yes, there is poetry everywhere if we are willing to see it. If you move somewhere else to find it, you’ll be disappointed. I’m as guilty of this as anyone. And though my car runs, I rarely use it these days. Thank you for this analysis. It makes me very happy that this was listened to. I am looking to collaborate with a friend on some songs. His feedback was:I love the lyrics of new one but don’t think the music is sad enough yet. There’s 2 songs on tusk, Lindsey bucking ham tunes. Save me a place and walk a thin line— they have a wonderful plodding dream like dirge pace. I can hear your latest slowed down in tempo, still give it a groove but more space to let notes extend and decay