Have A Nice Life - Destinos | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Have A Nice Life
• Destinos

[Verse 1]
The hardest spot to sleep in is always home
As soon as I get cut up and all is gone
And so you are treated to all of your cliches
You're tired and comfortable in your oh-so-boring phase

[Chorus]
I'm doing it now, at least I know am, at least I caught myself before I sent this out
I'm doing it now, at least I know am, at least I caught myself before I sent this out
Into this stupid world that doesn't give a damn
Oh, what kind of fool do you think I am?
What kind of fool do you think I am?

[Bridge]

[Verse 2]
It's just a past occurrence
More than coincidence
Got a past I can't recall
I have loved but I don't remember at all
It's down beneath the skin
Beneath my body’s grey walls
Where do I begin
Why do I keep forgiving at all
And...

[Chorus]

[Outro]
The only company [?]
[?]
Description 1 Contributor ?
From Dan Barrett’s blog, on the production of the song, and possibly the meaning behind it.

“In any case, I’ve been working semi-feverishly on [Destinos] in the moments I have alone. For a song about my typical agoraphobic anti-social bullshit, it sounds alot like dead people waking up under the ground and trying to claw their way out to set the cemetary on fire. That, and it routinely breaks my computer because it involves about 1400 tracks of audio and is 11 minutes long.

When these juices are flowing, and I feel that rush of creating, those are just wonderful times. I run into my room without taking off my jacket, desperate to work on the song; I daydream at work about alien worlds covered in water, and the drowned cities, once great, now populated only by mutated fish and forests of frozen spirit matter; who the fuck cares if anyone likes this stuff? Who cares? When I die you’re going to find a trunk filled with a lifetime’s work, musical, artistic and literary, that’s going to be so bizarre and singular that my only living heir, an autistic girl who can see the future, will know that burning it all in the backyard is the only way to save popular culture from the inevitable sundering of personality and consciousness that will come from making it public.

Then, she’ll put it all in the mail."
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