I mean, c'mon, they singing about their bodies literally exploding.
The fact that "We Will Become Silhouettes" by the Postal Service is about the aftermath of a nuclear fallout is way too depressing for words. Thanks for crushing all my hopes, Molly! :-P Only kidding, of course, but it's still pretty sad. It makes sense now that I listen to the lyrics again. I mean, hello:
I've got a cupboard with cans of food,
filtered water, and pictures of you
and I'm not coming out until this is all over.
And I'm looking through the glass
Where the light bends at the cracks
And I'm screaming at the top of my lungs
Pretending the echoes belong to someone
Someone I used to know
And we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
ba ba ba ba
I wanted to walk through the empty streets
And feel something constant under my feet,
But all the news reports recommended that I stay indoors
Because the air outside will make
Our cells divide at an alarming rate
Until our shells simply cannot hold
All our insides in,
And that's when we'll explode
(And it won't be a pretty sight)
And we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
ba ba ba ba
Only the Postal Service could turn a subject like that into a romantic-sounding song. I'm still going to say that he is comparing it to a love situation, just in a crazy way. Or maybe I've been in English lit classes too much and need to stop reading so deeply into symbolism and whatnot. *sigh*
Armstrong told me he doesn't think I should go into journalism. Tell me something I don't know, ha. But I didn't cry! Major points for me because I really thought I was going to lose it. But I held it together! And, if you know Armstrong, that's pretty damned impressive, if I do say so myself. :-D
Life is still interesting and random and crazy and amazing and beautiful. Sometimes you just have to look for it.
I've got a cupboard with cans of food,
filtered water, and pictures of you
and I'm not coming out until this is all over.
And I'm looking through the glass
Where the light bends at the cracks
And I'm screaming at the top of my lungs
Pretending the echoes belong to someone
Someone I used to know
And we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
ba ba ba ba
I wanted to walk through the empty streets
And feel something constant under my feet,
But all the news reports recommended that I stay indoors
Because the air outside will make
Our cells divide at an alarming rate
Until our shells simply cannot hold
All our insides in,
And that's when we'll explode
(And it won't be a pretty sight)
And we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
ba ba ba ba
Only the Postal Service could turn a subject like that into a romantic-sounding song. I'm still going to say that he is comparing it to a love situation, just in a crazy way. Or maybe I've been in English lit classes too much and need to stop reading so deeply into symbolism and whatnot. *sigh*
Armstrong told me he doesn't think I should go into journalism. Tell me something I don't know, ha. But I didn't cry! Major points for me because I really thought I was going to lose it. But I held it together! And, if you know Armstrong, that's pretty damned impressive, if I do say so myself. :-D
Life is still interesting and random and crazy and amazing and beautiful. Sometimes you just have to look for it.