You talk like a pistiol
With no where aim
Bedroom windows
Cracked to keep you sane
Looked beyond good and evil
To see what they say
There is no heaven
No hell to pay
I am just a fragment
In a big machine
Take heed of nothing
'Cause that's all it means

What the hell is this song even about? We got a crazy pistol talker, a Nietzche reference, and cog in a machine. There's nothing here for you, dear listener, to attach yourself. And it's really all about you right? So let me show you the cause for this frenetic, dissonant tune. I'm dating a beautiful woman with a shaved head. According to all my mom's hippy friends, I'm in love with her. They can see it in my aura. I wonder if the aura readers pick up on her bipolar disorder. I get a call from her roommate. She's a stripper studying neurophysiology at the rich people's college. She explains that my girlfriend locked herself in the bathroom and was wailing about wanting to kill herself, but being too afraid. I get on speakerphone, and after the phone slides under the door, I beg her not to hurt herself. It can't be all bad because we can still make each other laugh. She says the fun we have is evil. I say let's look beyond good and evil and start quoting Nietzsche because she's not responding anymore and I don't want to leave her to her own thoughts as I get in my car to drive to her place. She cries that she's ugly and fat and there's no point. That I look too similar to the hideous men of her past. That sex and music are the only things she's any good at and those are the only reasons I like her. I tell her that it's not true. She says, "See, you don't even think I'm good at sex." I wish she was joking. I tell her I value her because she finds compassion in the face of the world's wrongs. I don't think she hears me because she's screaming that she wants to die between sobs. I say let's not die right now. Let's write those hideous men a letter explaining how what they did to you was wrong and hurtful but that they could never take your strength. I get to her place and there's an empty box of wine on the floor and a mural of a baby in oil pastel on the wall. She says she's been talking to her. To who. The baby she aborted last year.

It's dramatic, I know, but it's how it happened. She didn't kill herself. She's married now, somewhere in the Midwest.

I won't be breaking the fourth wall like this on any of the other songs. I'll let you find your own meaning. If you can't and you need some guidance, come to a show or Twitter , Twitter me timbers or scissor me tinders finger your limbers. @eatzzzsexdie #metadecay