Sometimes there is beauty in pain. Vic Chesnutt captured that essential truth. The depth of the hurt is all emcompassing, and all we can do is submit ourselves without question. If we cry, well good. If we think, great!. If we can do both, maybe there is still hope. And without hope, what is left?
I always wondered what the "one day in a rage, father threw at an apple at my carapace" line was about, but I'm pretty sure it's a reference to The Metamorphoses, when Gregor's father does the same.
I am a monster Like Quasimodo Or Caliban the natural man Giving wild ripostes to my reflection One ugly morning In a rage Father threw an apple Into my carapace And like the invisible man Directing traffic I'd be ineffective No matter how enthusiastic Amid the masses' frenzy Participation In this massive Separation Appearance is everything Nothing is how it seems And civilized society Is calm civility I'm the phantom of the opera Singing beauty and at ease Or Henry Darger's Autobiography And that is curt clues to my essence Planned obsolescence Appearance is everything Nothing is how it seems In a market economy It's called marketing And not exactly clawing my way to glory Nor whimpering in the wind But once positively I'm teetering on the brink Of an all out breakthrough But sometimes clear headed Sometimes a doofus Sometimes very cordial And sometimes aloof I am syrupy optimistic one moment Then gravely pessimistic the next Irritable as a hornet sometimes Then agreeable as it gets I'm not a pagan I don't worship anything Not gods that don't exist Nor the sun which is oblivious I love my ancestors but not ritually I don't blame them or praise them For anything that they passed along to me I don't need stone altars to help me hedge my bet Against the looming blackness It is what it is
Thanks for the lyrics, although they contain a few errors. This is more accurate: I am a monster Like Quasimodo Or Caliban the natural man Giving wild ripostes to my reflection One ugly morning In a rage Father threw an apple Into my carapace And like the invisible man Directing traffic I’d be ineffective No matter how enthusiastic Amid the masses’ frenzied Participation In this mass of Separation Appearance is everything So nothing is how it seems In civilized society It’s called civility I’m the phantom of the opera Singing “Beauty and the Beast” Or Henry Darger’s Autobiography And that is curt clues to my essence Planned obsolescence Appearance is everything Nothing is how it seems In a market economy It’s called marketing I’m not exactly clawing my way to glory Nor whimpering in the wind But once positively teetering on the brink Of an all out breakthrough Sometimes clear headed Sometimes a doofus Sometimes very cordial And sometimes aloof I am syruply optimistic one moment Then gravely pessimistic the next Irritable as a hornet sometimes Then agreeable as it gets I’m not a pagan I don’t worship anything Not gods that don’t exist Nor the sun which is oblivious I love my ancestors but not ritually I don’t blame them or praise them For anything that they passed along to me I don’t need stone altars to help me hedge my bet Against the looming blackness That is what it is It is what it is It is what it is
ho conosciuto lei in camera ; aveva l'eta di mia figlia. fuori L'alba. mancava meno di un ora. ma io ero vicino ai suoi per 3 non potevo. poi San Francisco city. bello ma Non xson cambiato |vecchio son rimasto. oggi 5 Mass ok sbaglio di calcoli aveva23io 58 = :-), scusate non cono
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The man was a genius, one of the best songwriters of his generation
Sometimes there is beauty in pain. Vic Chesnutt captured that essential truth. The depth of the hurt is all emcompassing, and all we can do is submit ourselves without question. If we cry, well good. If we think, great!. If we can do both, maybe there is still hope. And without hope, what is left?
My teacher... RIP Vic, you MONSTER! You will live forever!
This music is so hard to listen to, but so hard not to love.
Vic ROCKS!
Miss you Vic
I always wondered what the "one day in a rage, father threw at an apple at my carapace" line was about, but I'm pretty sure it's a reference to The Metamorphoses, when Gregor's father does the same.
Yes, you are right.
I am a monster
Like Quasimodo
Or Caliban the natural man
Giving wild ripostes to my reflection
One ugly morning
In a rage
Father threw an apple
Into my carapace
And like the invisible man
Directing traffic
I'd be ineffective
No matter how enthusiastic
Amid the masses' frenzy
Participation
In this massive
Separation
Appearance is everything
Nothing is how it seems
And civilized society
Is calm civility
I'm the phantom of the opera
Singing beauty and at ease
Or Henry Darger's
Autobiography
And that is curt clues to my essence
Planned obsolescence
Appearance is everything
Nothing is how it seems
In a market economy
It's called marketing
And not exactly clawing my way to glory
Nor whimpering in the wind
But once positively
I'm teetering on the brink
Of an all out breakthrough
But sometimes clear headed
Sometimes a doofus
Sometimes very cordial
And sometimes aloof
I am syrupy optimistic one moment
Then gravely pessimistic the next
Irritable as a hornet sometimes
Then agreeable as it gets
I'm not a pagan
I don't worship anything
Not gods that don't exist
Nor the sun which is oblivious
I love my ancestors but not ritually
I don't blame them or praise them
For anything that they passed along to me
I don't need stone altars to help me hedge my bet
Against the looming blackness
It is what it is
Thanks for the lyrics, although they contain a few errors. This is more accurate:
I am a monster
Like Quasimodo
Or Caliban the natural man
Giving wild ripostes to my reflection
One ugly morning
In a rage
Father threw an apple
Into my carapace
And like the invisible man
Directing traffic
I’d be ineffective
No matter how enthusiastic
Amid the masses’ frenzied
Participation
In this mass of
Separation
Appearance is everything
So nothing is how it seems
In civilized society
It’s called civility
I’m the phantom of the opera
Singing “Beauty and the Beast”
Or Henry Darger’s
Autobiography
And that is curt clues to my essence
Planned obsolescence
Appearance is everything
Nothing is how it seems
In a market economy
It’s called marketing
I’m not exactly clawing my way to glory
Nor whimpering in the wind
But once positively
teetering on the brink
Of an all out breakthrough
Sometimes clear headed
Sometimes a doofus
Sometimes very cordial
And sometimes aloof
I am syruply optimistic one moment
Then gravely pessimistic the next
Irritable as a hornet sometimes
Then agreeable as it gets
I’m not a pagan
I don’t worship anything
Not gods that don’t exist
Nor the sun which is oblivious
I love my ancestors but not ritually
I don’t blame them or praise them
For anything that they passed along to me
I don’t need stone altars to help me hedge my bet
Against the looming blackness
That is what it is
It is what it is
It is what it is
Thank you for the lyrics, slint69.
ho conosciuto lei in camera ; aveva l'eta di mia figlia. fuori L'alba. mancava meno di un ora. ma io ero vicino ai suoi per 3 non potevo. poi San Francisco city. bello ma Non xson cambiato |vecchio son rimasto. oggi 5 Mass ok sbaglio di calcoli aveva23io 58 = :-),
scusate non cono
So?
Synchronicity.
how
Holland wit rusland