Opinion of the preceding song lyrics

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

What he said.

"im back, formosa"
Your gardens and bridges green
with sh!t came running... i'm back.

you think that i'll remember you?
well things all considered, i do.
i dreamt about that house last night.
you know the black lady told me not to make her black sons jealous.
What did I have? Guns and firetrucks...
I wonder if you remember me,
I had long blonde hair, and a stormy smile.
In fact I remember a photograph of me and you.

"im back sheridan"
Your yellow, red, white, and blue.
Firemen came running.

What went on in those cells?
I can think of exact floorboards that would come up
I can tell you what went on, you interject.

You were visiting a house thats been sealed for a 1000 years.
Little crayon scribbles, a white truck on a string.
You were standing there with your plaid and your favorite things.
But now your sleeping or f**king or something.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Pretty interesting, but I'm not a big fan of such straightforward style usually.


She looked at me with the biggest brown eyes and she screamed at me: "Would you like to f**k?" "I'll cut off my hands if you cut out your eyes." It made sense to me. We slide up, mechanically set, for the perfect alibi of passion gone by. I'm all out of change and you're I-95. We're the couple that couldn't make the payments but kept the car anyway. If it's going to have to be like that then we might as well arrange the perfect set for the perfect fame.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Kind of dumb

Slowly we peel away the layers and the light seeps through the cracks.
You whispered softly in my ear,
"the birth of mornings upon us, dear",
the bandages fell upon the floor.
And there was no one in that room.
It's quiet down the hallway where the doctors wash their hands.
Behind my eyes I feel the hollow jabs of your morphine kiss.
Your anesthetic voice is autographed upon my bones.
This reception died in vein.
In vain.
A tarnished angel leaves her ghost on the surface.
A jealous daughter starves to death for the mother as I awaited your return.
I wait for your return.
It seems the only way that I will ever feel alive.
Throw myself into my injuries and close my eyes.
I'd give anything to feel alive.
And I will wait for you tonight.
This scalpel carves a map for you.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

DUMB

In good will gesture crowds color-coded words stand on tiptoe to shout, necks crane sore to watch people not like them beaten, attacked, and crushed beneath; flag-waving arms that learn to hit flag-burning infidels glistening with spit; flag-waving arms stretched upwards in support of white-minded individuals working to curb freedoms once fought for by peole in picket lines, by people on busrides, by people behind bedroom doors, by people in abortion clinics.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Almost as dumb, and normally I'd like anything that mentions orgasms.

I went to a party last night.
What sick things I saw.
Makeout sessions and bicycle messengers,
Punks and art school dropouts.
I ran into this guy I knew
But hadn't seen in years.
We went into the neon kitchen and stole a couple beers.
He said his girl had dumped him
But there was another guy.
He said that he still liked her.
All I could say was,
"Why, why, oh why, oh why,
Why is it always like this?
Either you're too mean, or you're too nice."
He said, "I even cooked her breakfast."
So we went into the living room.
Someone was blasting Zeppelin.
It sounded good.
I felt ashamed.
I knew every drum fill.
Anyway, there she sat,
Totally kissing this guy.
They looked good, I mean like in love.
Then I remembered my friend.
He said, "How could you do this?
You said that you needed your space.
He's wearing the shirt that I gave you."
Then she said, "Why, why, oh why, oh why,
Why are you always like this?
If I'm having fun then it's breaking your heart.
Besides, you said I could have it."
Then the cops showed up.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Anyway your song sounds like millions of others; it's fairly pathetic and emo in it's own special way.

You're missing the point. Read it just words, not as lyrics. It reads just like a reply to a question like "so what did you do last night?"

Also the song is called "Bad Scene, Everybody's Fault". Very appropriate, perfect description.

Lewis' is another one of those that's narrated too straightforward without the quirkiness of that one I posted for me to like.

I see you headless with me caressing your neck.
My personal nightfall.
An eclipse of the sunflowers.
I feel so invisible.
So unknown.
A coffin of dust.
An illegible tombstone.
They finally buried the gravedigger in the sky.
I need to shower in your amber and bathe in your earth.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Awesome game and final battle.

Will you come and what will I say
Oh I have been so distant and unhappy
Like I could disappear

When I was a boy I saw things
That no one else could see
So why am I so blind at twenty-two
To the hope that is all around me
Filling up this room

On the road on my own
Waiting for the words to fall from your tongue
Into my ears

When I was a boy I could hear
Symphonies in seashells
So why am I so deaf at twenty-two
To the sound of the driving snow
That drives me home to you

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

I wear make up."

That part is not true.

As for that song, I don't like lyrics in languages I can't understand, especially dead languages.

this is our party-
we pick the records-
we set the dresscode.
and make love on the dance floor.
like it or not we're the
only game in town!

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Reminds me of what is called "Engfish"

Johnny has a dream to make the scene
Where all he has to do is make girls scream
Unbuckling his belt will surely make them melt
Turning butter into cream

For now, he's an unknown who's content to take orders
Stocking magazines, turning fives into quaters
Soon he'll make them see that he's got what it takes
When they get a look at his 14 inch snake

He's got a job in a porno shop, where he mops up for free
Oh, it may suck now, but he knows somehow
He'll see his face on a T.V. screen

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Eh, not bad for a little girl.

Tonight we're going to fuk sh!t up real good motherfukers!
zippo's toilet paper yeah that's true and the ashtray's just a petting zoo
we're not gonna piss in a cup no we're gonna fuk sh!t up
shooting up and smoking dope live fast die young is what we hope
drinking forties and snorting speed we're gonna do just what we need
straight strong white and het- twisting the words of minor threat
beer not coffee in our cup we wish that we could fuk sh!t up
we the punx are out tonight we're gonna start a riot what a sight
burning cop cars and looting stores eating the rich because we're poor
nazi cops and nazi skins sometimes it seems they're gonna win
gotta stick together gotta tighten up then we're gonna fuk sh!t up

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

I HATE that song.

We're gonna die when the sun comes up
We'll drink until we drop
my blood is 100 proof
we're gonna stumble twist and crawl
99 bottles of beer on the wall
I'd rather drink than f'uck

No doubt about it I cant live with out it
No doubt about it I cant live with out it alcohol, alcohol

it is my destiny

You've got the beer we've got the time
You've got the coke gimme a line

No doubt about it I can't live with out it
No doubt about it I can't live with out it alcohol, alcohol

We're gonna die when the sun comes up
We'll drink until we drop
I'd rather drink than f'uck
You've got the beer we've got the time
You've got the coke gimme a line

No doubt about it I cant live with out it
No doubt about it I cant live with out it alcohol

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

A song about places I never want to go to.

Promise... Leaving... Isn't loving... Leaving... Isn't loving... I wish I could tell you without crying.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Pretty clever, bet I wouldn't like the music though.

Yawn. Typical Stuff. Though I guess I need to listen to it Musically first.

It's about 45 seconds and consists of a guy screaming that over a bunch of fast grindy mosh parts. And it's not a joke either.

Depending on what genre it is in it could be good but most likely isn't.

I like it and it's emo-y, so you obviously wouldn't.

It would be nice to have a blow job
It would be nice to have a blow job
It would be nice to have a blow job
It would be nice to have a blow job
It would be nice to have a blow job
It would be nice to have a blow job
It would be nice to have a blow job
It would be nice to have a blow job from your mom

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Kind of corny, is it from the 70s?

...in the stone heart of an angry son, an angry son who has done his swallowing, his memories are bitten pills, so many bitten pills that he has collected...

...the broken ground he now moves on, this ground so unsettled, so endlessly unsettled...

...on the way to the sunken earth, and still he moves on

this is earth... ...has moved on and collected, settled to his own liking, and still he moves on

a voice in the back of his head reminding him that this is stolen, that this is not his

all these moments, all these precious time spent moments in gravity

all this anxious waiting, all this time spent waiting.

all this pain that you know, all this ....?... , all this pain that you will ever know

in waking hours, time spent in this moment

though he is living, silently in moments, and forgiving relevance... it is in his heart he is holding and calling behind sadness of empty fields. it is in these moments of time well spent...in these moments of gravity, this time well spent, a look to heaven, sighing tears of angel's and a night sky...

racing, racing, yelling softly, this is the moment, this is the moment,a look to heaven, sighing tears of angel's and a night sky, this is the moment

holding moments and forgiving relevance...it is in his heart he is holding and calling behind sadness of empty fields. it is in these moments of time well spent...in these moments of gravity, this time well spent, a look to heaven, sighing tears of angel's and a night sky...

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Bad, and I'll bet the music sucks too.

i watched you float away on a wave of want and misery
now i've got to find you
i watched you float away on whatever caught your eye
now i've got to find you
'cause i've got to keep your head above the water
while the current pulls me under

i will hang my life in the space between the noose and your neck
i won't let you die just yet

i will love you even when you won't let me
and you will kill me by doing nothing
but i know it's not you, my dear,
i know it's not you
i know it's not you, my dear,
it's the nothing that kills

i can't save you
control is something out of mine
no, i can't save you
control is something out of my control

i will love you even when you won't let me
and you will kill me by doing nothing
but i know it's not you, my dear,
i know it's not you
i know it's not you, my dear,
it's the nothing that kills

i can't save you but i will love you
no, i can't save you but i will love you
i'd like to think that this is love
lost in second chances without end
this is romance

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Seems kind of pointless and dumb.

It's Christmas Eve, and I've only wrapped two f**king presents
It's Christmas Eve, and I've only wrapped two f**king presents
and I hate, hate, hate your guts
I hate, hate, hate your guts
and I'll never talk to you again

Unless your dad will suck me off
I'll never talk to you again
unless your mom will touch my cock
I'll never talk to you again
ejaculate into a sock
I'll never talk to you again
I'll never talk to you again

It's Labor Day and my Grandpa just ate seven f**king hotdogs
It's Labor Day and my Grandpa just ate seven f**king hotdogs
and he sh!t, sh!t, sh!t his pants
he always f**king sh!tin' his pants
and I'll never talk to you again

Unless your dad will suck me off
I'll never talk to you again
unless your mom will touch my cock
I'll never talk to you again
ejaculate into a sock
I'll never talk to you again
I'll never talk to you again

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

More dumb psuedo-poetic stuff.

This is from Ampere by the way:

we won't play your game. you wrote the book,
made the rules.
we are excerpts from the same book,
dog-eared but not worn out.
all books reach an ending.
so, then, will our movement.
gather all your hang-ups & feed them to the sharks.
we'll inhabit the space between the two extremes:
so alive in body & so devoid of heart.
we knew there would be no future;
that was our greatest freedom.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

I don't get it, but it's kind of funny.

Tonight we're going to fuk sh!t up real good motherfukers!
zippo's toilet paper yeah that's true and the ashtray's just a petting zoo
we're not gonna piss in a cup no we're gonna fuk sh!t up
shooting up and smoking dope live fast die young is what we hope
drinking forties and snorting speed we're gonna do just what we need
straight strong white and het- twisting the words of minor threat
beer not coffee in our cup we wish that we could fuk sh!t up
we the punx are out tonight we're gonna start a riot what a sight
burning cop cars and looting stores eating the rich because we're poor
nazi cops and nazi skins sometimes it seems they're gonna win
gotta stick together gotta tighten up then we're gonna fuk sh!t up

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Kind of interesting, I think I might've heard it before, who's it by?

when you f**ked grandpa did he tell you that he loved you?
did he hold you till the sun did rise and did he look into your eyes
and ask you to fellate him, and stick a finger or two in his ass

he seems like a total asshole, grandpa is a total f**king asshole
who would ever want a dirty, greasy finger in his ass?
he rubs his dick in broken glass.

when you f**ked grandpa did he kiss you soft and tender?
did he tie your hands behind your head and was it on your mother's bed and...
(he seems like a total asshole,
grandpa is a total f**king asshole who would ever want a dirty,
greasy finger in his ass? he
rubs his dick in broken glass)

this is f**king stupid man,
I can't believe you'd have sex with your own grandfather,
I mean, you guys are related! What's
he gonna do?
Take out his false teeth and just leave them on the side of your bed?
Man, you like to f**k him in the butt and
have people come in and watch and masturbate and cum all over the place,
this is stupid. I hate you all. I'm not even gonna
have sex with my mom tonight, this is stupid!

I hate you.

he seems like a total asshole, grandpa is a total f**king asshole
who would ever want a dirty, greasy finger in his ass?
he rubs his dick in broken glass.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

BRTD's is a bit too gross and vulgar for me to have the desire to search it for some allegorical meaning or whatever, although I don't necessarily dispute that it has one.

Nah, it doesn't. It's a bonus track to a Blink 182 album and isn't intended to be anything other than a funny vulgar song.

As for your's, kind of corny and cliche.

"im back, formosa"
Your gardens and bridges green
with sh!t came running... i'm back.

you think that i'll remember you?
well things all considered, i do.
i dreamt about that house last night.
you know the black lady told me not to make her black sons jealous.
What did I have? Guns and firetrucks...
I wonder if you remember me,
I had long blonde hair, and a stormy smile.
In fact I remember a photograph of me and you.

"im back sheridan"
Your yellow, red, white, and blue.
Firemen came running.

What went on in those cells?
I can think of exact floorboards that would come up
I can tell you what went on, you interject.

You were visiting a house thats been sealed for a 1000 years.
Little crayon scribbles, a white truck on a string.
You were standing there with your plaid and your favorite things.
But now you're sleeping or f**king or something.

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Would like them better if I could understand them.

If I die and go to hell real soon
It will appear to me as this room
And for eternity I'd lay in bed
In my boxers, half stoned
With the pillow under my head

I'd be chatting on the interweb
Maggots prey upon the living dead
I had no interest in the things she said
On the phone every day
I'll permanently hit the hay

I called her on the phone
And she touched herself
I laughed myself to sleep

At this rate I'll be heading for electric chairs
I'm only human with my cross to bear
When she described her underwear
I forgot all the rules
My rabbi taught me in the old shul
You're too young to be this empty, girl
I'll prepare you for a sick dark world
Know that you'll be my downfall
But I call and I call and I call

I don't know what I want
(I met you on the internet)

I called her on the phone
And she touched herself
I laughed myself to sleep

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Now that I bothered to read the translation it's pretty cool.

Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)

You see, me and my homies like to play this game
We call it Amtrak but some call it the train
We all would line up in a single-file line
And take our turns at waxing girls' behinds
But every time it came to me, I was sh!t out of luck
Because I'd stick my dick in, and it would get stuck
The girls would say "Stop!" I'd say "I'm not!
That's enough, I quit, 'cause y'all are bustin' me out!"
I say, girls, don't hide it, just divide it
And please don't knock it until you've tried it
So to all of you bitches and all you hoes
Let's have group sex and do the Rambo!

Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)

I'm the Peter Piper of the 1980's
Got a long hard dick for all of the ladies
I don't care if you got three babies
You can work the sitck in my Mercedes
If you wanna blow, just let me know
We can go backstage at the end of the show
I'll look at you, and you will look at me
With my dick in my hands as you fall to your knees
You know what to do, 'cause I won't say please
Just nibble on my dick like a rat does cheese!

Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)
Somebody say HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!
(HEY-Y-Y-Y-Y WE WANT SOME PU-U-USSAY-Y-Y!)

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

eh, like too much else that's been written.

our hands once entwined
i would have held tighter
but would you have let me?
but would you have let me?
did we climb too high?
did we fall too far?
take this letter
i live in every word (only to die in silence)

you were always there to fill my heart
i will love you forever!
can you say the same?
you said "i love you"
can i believe a ing word you say?!

i hugged you in my dreams last night
it's the closest we've been in so long
i remember someone who looked just like you
i remember someone who stole my heart

what would we say?
under the stars...

i'm lost in you
this is my time...

[I spent the winter writing songs about getting better]

Ha, that's kind of cool. Is it it a punk song?

If I die and go to hell real soon
It will appear to me as this room
And for eternity I'd lay in bed
In my boxers, half stoned
With the pillow under my head

I'd be chatting on the interweb
Maggots prey upon the living dead
I had no interest in the things she said
On the phone every day
I'll permanently hit the hay

I called her on the phone
And she touched herself
I laughed myself to sleep

At this rate I'll be heading for electric chairs
I'm only human with my cross to bear
When she described her underwear
I forgot all the rules
My rabbi taught me in the old shul
You're too young to be this empty, girl
I'll prepare you for a sick dark world
Know that you'll be my downfall
But I call and I call and I call

I don't know what I want
(I met you on the internet)

I called her on the phone
And she touched herself
I laughed myself to sleep