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Forever Changed
We all should know that music has a different meaning to everyone. What one sees as a song that is intended for entertainment, another may see it as a metaphor for something more. This happened to me when I was trying to make sense of a song that made almost no sense whatsoever even to the band that wrote it. They even said it in a lyrics book for one of their CDs: "This is a song I threw together one day cuz I was about to leave on tour and Epitaph needed an unreleased song for Punk-O-Rama 3." "It's kinda got a lot of parts for a thrown together song, but most of them were leftovers from unused other shit.". I tried for a bit to make sense of the lyrics but my metaphorical translations were always a bit off until something happened recently.
Pot. We either see it as a great thing that can bring a uplift in mood, creativity, and craving for snack-like foods, or we see it as a thing only the urban world has to deal with. As of November of the year 2002 I had never had any kind of foreign substance administered to my body for pleasure. But the first few "joint sessions" in my freshaman year in High-School were quite inconclusive. I still loved the stuff though. Even though I never got high in the good old days of pot, I still loved every inhalation, every strike of the lighter, every fresh dimebag and loathed every lighter without fluid, every bag without herb, and every dry dealer.
My story continues this way until about February of the year 2003 when I first realized I was toking a lot more than I should be. Every advanced class I was in dropped at least a letter grade as the holes in my brain (intended for the storing of information until the next test) were filled with reefer. I tried to quit. I was very depressed and bored for that time I spent without my girlfriend, Mary-Jane. My friends, of course, messed around with me and teased me but I endured about fifteen days of it before I gave in. Of course I was unsure about my decision. Should I have fun and load my lungs with the sweet herb? Or should I concern myself with my long-term goal of passing the ninth grade? I said "screw it" and went with the former.
This led to an extensivly long period of heavy smoking (Well, for my standards, that is.). I was smoking three or four times a week with a new weed buddy. School had ended and I passed all my classes and got a level 4 on all my finals! So I started to work in the summer for some extra (weed) money. This is where it goes downhill. I'm making over a hundred a week and spending an average of $10 a day on herb. This is the way it is all the way until school starts again where a critical turning point comes up.
My mom found some paraphanalia. Shit. So now I'm busted and my parents are all protective. I try other things like minor and non-addictive forms of meth. Meth makes me feel like shit despite all the energy and motivation it gives me. I want the herb! The fine greenery, the brillintly arranged red hairs, the bubbling of the bong, the scent! Oh, how I loved the scent! But then I start to think... I fueled the flames a lot. I damaged myself. That damage cannot be undone. I can't remember what I learned in class the other day. I had lost someone... and that someone was me. I am forever changed.
After all this happened, I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and the lyrics to that song. The song is called "We threw gasoline on the fire and now we have stumps for arms and no eyebrows". I just downloaded it because the name sounded funny. For some reason, back then, I liked it. I didn't know why, but I liked it. It didn't make sense. But it had meaning to me for some odd reason. Had I known what the metaphorical value stood for in this lyrical Nostradomous composition I could have really dodged a bullet that shot right through my wallet.
To understand this metaphorical masterpiece, you'd have to know the lyrics.
They are provided below:
Brilliant? Word describing something dumb
You create to desecrate the villain I've become
A prophet, not to be made but heard
Speaks in tongues and sarcasm
To me it's plain, to you absurd
You don't know me let alone my intent
Actions do not always self represent
I don't feel urgency in explaining
My conscience opaquely clear
The seed is gently sown back to mother earth
Flower blooms and splendid fumes
The miracle rebirth
A cynic, in the search of something more
The fragrant air cannot compare
To what it was the great before
Remember the good old days
Remember the sound
Remember the sweet mustiness underground
No, I don't feel the need for reliving
Some things are better off dead
Never thought the furnace
Was going to burn us
We worked the bellows for so long
The comfort of the fire appetize us
Looks like we burned ourselves alive
Remember the old band we filled ears with pain
Nothing to lose there was nothing to gain
I don't miss my span of attention
I do miss my old friend Tim.
Choppy and incomplete, right? No meter or rhyme sequence, right? Exactly. Nothing
in life is truly consistent. Now let me go on to explain how this works out.
Let's take the first line, "Brilliant? Word describing something dumb.", and fit it in. I was always smart as a child and remained this way until my experimentation with Pot. I was brilliant, therefore I am dumb.
The second line, "You create to desecrate the villain I've become", is a reference to someone's dissatisfaction with who I became. And who did I become? A potsmoker. Who is it referring to here?
The next three lines, "A prophet, not to be made but heard. Speaks in tongues and sarcasm. To me it's plain, to you absurd ", refer to a waking call to my problem. I am the only one who realizes this call as what it is as stated by "To me it's plain, to you absurd".
"You don't know me let alone my intent. Actions do not always self represent. I don't feel urgency in explaining. My conscience opaquely clear" Is a reference to how I sort of turn on this prophet, ignoring it, thinking, "What have I done wrong? Nothing!". The last line is how I'm still unsure of what to do about this situation.
"The seed is gently sown back to mother earth. Flower blooms and splendid fumes. The miracle rebirth" Is a metaphor for my first time quitting. The seed is me and mother earth is a metaphor for reality. I realize what I've done and I'm reborn. But I'm only gently sown back meaning I can still get back up and off mother mearth.
"A cynic, in the search of something more. The fragrant air cannot compare. To what it was, the great before" Is a reference to my boredoem and depression. I am searcihng for something to do (my boredoem) and whatever I do find doesn't compare with the way I was before.
"Remember the good old days. Remember the sound. Remember the sweet mustiness underground. No, I don't feel the need for reliving. Some things are better off dead " Is me returning to pot but doing it much differently. Instead of once a month, it is four times a week, hence, "I don't feel the need for reliving". I, from now on, do it completly differently.
"Never thought the furnace was going to burn us. We worked the bellows for so long. The comfort of the fire appetize us. Looks like we burned ourselves alive" Is when I was caught and started to realize what was wrong. I never thought I was going to be changed so I kept doing it more and more to comfort myself until I realized I had changed myself. I am a different person now.
And now for the sad ending. "Remember the old band we filled ears with pain. Nothing to lose there was nothing to gain". This is a reference to how I used to live life without seeing the concequences, the people hurt by the entire ordeal. "I don't miss my span of attention. I do miss my old friend Tim." My span of attention is my habit. My old friend Tim... well, Tim is my former self. I miss my former self. I am forever changed.