Sage Francis - Message Sent [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

I've got some letters inside of my drawer
That should have been stamped and delivered
One is addressed to my ex
It says "I'm the type of man who can't be lived with"
One is addressed to my friends
It says "I'm a mess so y'all can't visit"
One is addressed to myself
But I don't know which personality or hand to give it

I'm a God-damned misfit, mismatched, but never missed much
Mr. right-time-wrong-place with a long face until our lips touch
I don't miss the mistrust, it's what got our messages mixed up
Before I rip up your letters let us see if I can tear you away from his clutch

This stuff's a whole other drawer
From a different dresser I'm not ready to address
I went to the west to get my mind off things, I'm already depressed
I give up, get let down, downplay, play games, put on my game face
Face my pharmaceutical needs, feed on my medicine, I don't like the way that it tastes

I go place to place without enough money to put a bed under me
I share my sleeping space with rodents, insects, and dust bunnies
I laugh at the mess I've created for myself until it gets unfunny
But I'm content in the fact that they don't expect respect, sex, love, or trust from me

When I'm hungry I can taste it
I hide in the basement
Check up on me every now and then
'Cuz my mood swings low, I can feel myself going down again

Falling off is easy, getting put on takes a bit of ass-kissing
I'd rather listen to myself flop on the ground than hear the sound of a mattress spring
I rap and sing and talk and write and often type with 2 fingers
The "hunt and kill" method
I edit one third of a word per second

Your emails sit in my unsent box. If you're a girl that I miss
You'll eventually get my virtual good bye kiss
The rest are addressed to my friends and the subject line is "Just check this fine bitch"
And the one for myself's untitled but...it's the same virus

My wrists get slit on your shoulder blades
When I lose my grip when I hold your face
Let it drip on your golden laced silver slip
Spilling all over the place
I'd lay my jacket over the blood puddle when we go on dates
To prove I'm a gentleman, peddling my bike at a slower pace

"The sum of the parts doesn't equal the whole," she states
Before my parents get home I'll take
Time to find the fragments of our relationship
Glue back together this broken vase

Falling in love is easy. Falling out of love takes a bit of practice
I'm good at both without even owning a mattress
I never asked for a kiss without deserving one
If you never saw me cry before
Wait for the next time I wake up on the wrong side of the floor

I've got some letters inside of my drawer
That should have been sent by now
Sealed in an envelope
One is addressed to my ex
And it says that I feel our friendship's a joke
One is addressed to my friend
And it says his ex-girlfriend's on coke
And one is addressed to myself on a personal note
Unopened...filled with endless quotes

Whenever I spoke, they'd close me in and bust my lip
Now I wear parenthesis on my temples, step to the podium and just think
Whenever lonely I shrink, and hold myself, squeezing tight
Before I sprawl out on the hardwood floor and kiss myself to sleep at night

I have dreams of flight, but I'm not floating
The ground is approaching awful quick
So I wake up screaming for you to catch me
That's what I start every day off with

I may talk shit, but ain't much else to do in this prison cell
And lucky for me no one really listens well, especially when I diss myself
I'll fly away on a pig when my living hell freezes over
And since I'm used to the cold I'll be able to rest my head on Jesus' shoulder

Explanations are in order for why these floor boards are always freezing
Guess it'll all make sense once we get older and reach the Age of Reason
'Til then, I'll have no reason to sleep in, Not even on weekends
Unless we're together, 'cuz my willpower will probably weaken

Deepen my appreciation for the current condition
'Cuz I'm sick of always feeling like something is missing
I slumber in one position. Crouched up and fetal-like
The couch sucks cuz my feet are like...given no space to breathe
While I embrace my knees

Its off to the floor 'cuz I can't sleep nowhere else
That's why I write these letters to all of y'all but never send 'em
It's better to just keep to myself