Cecil Otter - Matchbook Diaries (Remix) [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
I love the way you took a second look into that book of matches
With overlapping names and numbers, you mistook for matches
Mistook for matches made in heaven's workshop
Squatting on that crooked mattress, where you chose to curse god
First sound, dirty slob, worse wine, aftertaste
Said you did a clerk's job, jerks off and masturbates
Now let that sink in. What you been drinking?
Come on, you gotta start thinking
That bastard dates the first mod squad model rep
To cast her baby skills, into his fishy bowl of masticating lady thrills
Debating with his trainees, he'll say something fascinating
Like, "Baby, chill. Kodak moments are fastly fading."
He'll bravely swill the last of his remaining shady pills
It's the one that killed your baby
He said, "Maybe we'll meet again, most likely under the sheets
And then we'll host the nightly hunter meets the hunted."
And then he cheats again
Your family trees bend over to lend a hand
But you've never been a fan of being a charity case
You don't want no minute man, but you want his burial place
They said, "If life gives you sour grapes, then make cheap wine."
Now how's that parody taste? And it's guaranteed to make
You a daring teen with a therapy face
Play Eternal Flame on repeat until their stereo breaks
Down the science of love

[Bridge]
You thought we'd both go up in smoke, send dual smoke signals
You got denied that must be why you drew both pistols
You shot the sky, and here I am, catching fallen angels

[Verse 2]
She said, "Don't bother me. I'll lose the truth
As the man that fathered me blew it
Walking me through his two fisted trail of fallen trees
And now I'm truthless. Besides, you're just a primate
And talking to me is useless."
I said, "You're not biting; you're barking
And it's music to my ears."
It's music to my ears
It's music to my ears
I tore the wiring from her forklift
She dropped dead gorgeous, in a Four Seasons porch
With her lips pressed against a cordless phone
It was off the hook, get it?
They call this girl "but-her-nose." Everything looks good
But her nose is filled with coke; she just won't admit it, get it?
She took another match, and she lit it
She struck a handful of matches at the same time
And couldn't figure which stick to drop first
Each one got closer, and it hurts now
Since that draft pick got worse
You got the first degree from each one at the same time
They want the news and the weather
It said you led them down the dateline
And now your sticky fingers fuse together
Like, back in the days when she was a teenager
Before she struck those matches, before she went through labor
You could find this underager double-fistin' tons of strangers
Back in the days when she was a teenager --
Before she struck those matches, before she went through labor --
You could find this underager, double-fistin' tons of strangers
Moms used to say, it reminded her of her... savior