Amity - Vividicity [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Verse 1:
He sits alone and writes in a small dark room
Suspended in animation like a paused cartoon
His arms on the paper like a drawn harpoon
A mind-wandering warrior and his sword’s dark blue
Ever since he picked up the pen his warm heart grew
But he feels no beat is good enough to form bars to
He overcame writers block – fought hard too
Been at his desk since morning and its four past noon
He’s defying physics as he’s writing lyrics
Rhyming quickly with his mind a million miles a minute
They say a picture says a thousand words
But when the words paint a picture that speaks louder, it’s bound to work
Going outside the limits of the page to form words
This place you call Earth will cage the poor bird
With no concern for accolades or awards
When he’s named an auteur, it’ll make it all worth it

Hook:
Vividicity
It's so vivid you might need to step back/
And grab hold of yourself to get with it
A one way ticket into this dream state/
But you wait to say this is the real world - or is it?
Vividicity

Verse 2:
The dim light from the lamp is cast across the page
Creating eerie shadows with which he can’t cooperate
His targets alternate with the pen tightly in his hand
His life is spic and span although it might just hit the fan
Frantically moving the ball point from left to right
At the bottom of the page, there’s not much left to write
The pantomime fades when the pen meets the paper
He meets his maker in his own world as he anticipated
Because the ink brings the lyrics to life
And allows him to express what he thinks and he’s feeling inside
It brings him a smile and puts a skip in his stride
And he’d swim in the sky every time he’d finish a line
A bead of sweat snakes down his face to the paper
He tries to turn it and gets a papercut and angrily breaks the/
Pen through the page and the ink sprays from how hard he pressed
He snaps back and scrunches up the paper to start again

(Hook)

Verse 3:
The music flows through his mind, body and soul
It sets him free like his life’s not what he wants
He zones out on his own cloud and time stops as foretold
He returns to reality and the night’s gotten so cold
You’ll never understand the vividness of black and white
Until you live a little and you’ve written your own alibi
But he knows that time is ticking for his lavish life
So he records it in his lyrics and things that he writes
Every word is a colour and the beat is the canvas
Painting the air with his tongue, leaving from Kansas/
Into the world of Oz and still not pleased with his standards
Questions with no exceptions without needing the answers
Writing the script to his life with little difficulty
A unanimous protagonist who’s sinister but innocent
His vision is still limited – he’s wishing he could picture this
Surrealism is infinite and this is vividicity