Flashmen

So I ask myself, why?

Can’t be held responsible.

And I don’t call you.

…she was touching her face.

When I first heard this song, I thought the chorus went "we were merely flashmen", and I wanted to know what flashmen were. They sounded neat, some sort of paratrooper shock troop that fell from the sky, descended on the enemy like a fluttery anvil of a hidden god.

I won’t be held responsible.

I believe so strongly in personal responsibility, I find myself lacking trust in myself, because I can’t maintain my own standards.

She fell in love in the first place.

I look back on myself, and I remember who I was, remember all of the emotions, but it feels like it’s a step away. Like it happened to someone else.

For the life of me, I cannot remember

I’ve comprimised so often.

What made us think that we were wise and we’d never comprimise.

Comprimised my principles. Comprimised my emotions. Comprimised so much, I didn’t even realize I was comprimising. The yen to comprimise is so strong, it keeps me awake at night.

For the life of me, I cannot believe we’d ever die for these sins, we were merely freshmen. 

Flashmen, jumping out the plane, falling to the earth on man made wings. Maybe that’s the story of my life. Loving something not for what it is, but for what I want it to be. Believing the illusion so strongly, it blinds me to the truth.

We’ve tried to wash our hands of all of this

I never looked at the lyrics of this song until today. Verve Pipe. Freshman.  Didn’t have a damn clue what it was really about. Of course, I loved this song, had it on one of my favorite mix CDs in college. I didn’t see the dead baby. Turned the suicide into a self inflicted slap. My mind slid over the details, grabbed the emotions, but the words were slick, like glossy paper, leaving only a smooth chord of imagined feelings and I thought that was the point. 

We never talk of our lacking relationships

I can’t help but want to believe the best. Because 9 out of 10 times, I’m not wrong. Or maybe 8 out of 10. Or seven.

And how we’re guilt stricken sobbin’ with our heads on the floor

The odds are generally in my favor. And maybe I’m not wrong this time either.

We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip, we’d say

It takes two to tango. One to fall. Two to touch. One to hurt.

When I was young I knew everything.

When was that? I remember it like a dream. Now, all I know for sure is that I know nothing at all.