Sinkhole

Navigating the Abyss: ME REX's Sinkhole Chronicles
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Lyrics

Sinkholes open up all down the street

Sinkholes symbolize problems emerging in society or personal life.

In the paved-over places where rivers used to be

Urbanization has replaced natural elements, leaving paved areas where rivers once flowed.

There is a blasphemy written into my stack of meat anatomy

The speaker acknowledges a sacrilegious aspect in their physical existence.

I am physically sick, down to the facile, asinine id

The speaker feels physically unwell, expressing frustration with their basic instincts.

We scratch the itch until it bleeds, down to the wet flesh underneath

Engaging in harmful habits despite consequences, exposing vulnerabilities beneath the surface.

Something inert, innate in me giving me good reason

An internal force compels the speaker to act with questionable motives.

I will take and I will use, I will obey, I will consume

Listing destructive behaviors: taking, using, obeying, consuming, polluting, and cruelty.

I will pollute, I will be cruel, I will feel better when it's through

The speaker finds relief in harmful actions but acknowledges the aftermath.

Because there is a knot tied in my stomach, up to a covenant with pride

A sense of internal conflict and pride-related discomfort.

It is umbilical in comfort, like it's keeping me alive

The discomfort feels essential, like a life-sustaining connection.

There is a residual violence in the way that I am wired

The speaker recognizes a lingering inclination towards violence in their nature.

People are sick, you cannot fix them, so we mostly just quit trying

Cynicism about fixing societal issues; people are seen as unchangeable.

And now it's back to pills and hatred, back to background radiation

Returning to coping mechanisms like pills and hatred due to societal challenges.

Back to sick to back teeth, back to the wounds worn underneath

Resuming coping with pain and scars underneath the surface.

Turn your back to waves of cruelty, surf the pain, hang-ten, hail Satan

An ironic suggestion to face cruelty with resilience, embracing pain.

Back to bloodshot underneath cheap shades

Returning to a state of weariness, symbolized by bloodshot eyes beneath sunglasses.

Back to bull-muscled, bust-knuckled boy again

A return to a tough, aggressive persona, reminiscent of a boy.

He used to be your

Fragment indicating a connection to someone in the past.

He used to be your friend

Reinforces the idea of a lost connection to a friend.


And don't you miss being civilians some

Nostalgia for simpler times when they were civilians, without the burden of violence.

You come home soaked in bad guy blood

Returning home marked by the consequences of violent actions.

The little toil that's left undone, the soft betrayal that's yet to come

Highlighting uncompleted tasks and impending betrayals.

You tore up my civilian clothes, the good guy skin I used to own

The speaker's identity has been transformed, shedding a more positive persona.

Enmity is we I know, I tore, I poured out milky smoke

Recognition of shared enmity, possibly referencing societal issues.

It ends with forgiveness, when callouses come, cover split blood blisters up

Transformation towards forgiveness as emotional calluses develop.

Come tell me when you've had enough

A call for communication when the listener is ready for change.


Back to pills and hatred, back to background radiation

Reiteration of returning to coping mechanisms, emphasizing a cyclic pattern.

Back to sick to back teeth, back to the wounds worn underneath

Revisiting the struggles and wounds beneath the surface.

Turn your back to waves of cruelty, surf the pain, hang-ten, hail Satan

Ironically suggesting resilience in facing cruelty, possibly with a touch of rebellion.

Back to bloodshot underneath cheap shades

Returning to a wearied state, symbolized by bloodshot eyes under cheap sunglasses.

Back to bull-muscled, bust-knuckled boy again

Resuming a tough, aggressive persona, echoing a boyish nature.

He used to be your

Reiteration of the lost connection with someone who used to be a friend.

He used to be your friend

Further emphasizing the loss of the connection with the friend.


It ends with forgiveness, when callouses come, cover split blood blisters up

Completion of the transformation toward forgiveness as emotional calluses form.

Come tell me when you've had enough

An invitation to communicate when ready for a change.

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