Sole - Plutonium [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
Thank the loyal servants for being so loyal
Soon they'll be happy and very safe;
If not, sent off like a pigeon with his head cut off
If it wasn't for the guillotine, there would be no umbilical
Cord. isn't it pitiful? at our pinnical
They make it sound so pinnocchio
That's how I know it's so dumb, it could even write its own article
Give me a break, the great big break that breaks your back
And chews my fingers off
'til it's safe to laugh again, or at them
Put the coals back in my eyes again
And away from the fire that burns out our loved ones
And takes its toll out on me
Cause good luck is always keeping minutes
We gotta stay in play, so don't run out of tokens
Plus the machine needs warm bodies
Plug the pipes if you still got skulls;
If there's time to muddy the hands
Then there's time to study the flow of the blood in the lay of the land
Running off and eroding our relatives
With red, white, and blue christmas lights
In the greatest kingdom. I say it's a crop and I'm a lousy meal
A lousy liar amongst so many bad actresses
And not enough stimuli left to light an oven pilot
So how can I not be negative?
My own cliche, my would-be peers
More caught up with image than speaking than truth
And if that's the only truth you can come up with, go fake some bravery
Like the rented camaraderie in the human lottery
Whatever year it is, I'm still sick
Can't hate the sky for being gray
Or the bad poem that we live out every day
Twenty minutes outside the city, or fifteen years from over the hill
With enough time to kill braincells to fry;
You all gonna fry with me
It must be, you all gonna fry with me...

[Bridge]
We who die in more flying accidents than firefights;
No cure of the overkill

[Verse 2]
Forty year-old women with cakes and carriages singing bible hymns
Ain't fixing anything; get your picket signs
Go on strike, get a five cent raise; your a champion. now
They're making model citizens out of your children
Mapping personal growth through frivolousness; so seperated
Yet drugged up to nowhereland. even love feels artificial;
Happiness, my loaded pistol
In the '20s, i'da been a socialist in a colorado coal mine
But it's 2000-something and the rats love their mazes
It's all so ethnospecific and opinionated
Divided we take our antidepressants and make our appointments
Let the dolphins die, but who's gonna save the humans?
I've been to a million cities and they're all the same:
People laugh and talk the same
Girls all flirt the same, employees all dream the same
Love your grid and your comfort zone
Look out for the white-girl suicide bombers
Look out for your time or your piece of mind
Or entertainment above the fifth grade level
Stay ignorant and easily corralled through conservative reforms
'til we're broke from the half-measures
Taxed to the teeth to fund the caste system
Living it up for our stereotypes
And I know nothing, but at least I know;
While they vote green and drink their espressos
Discussing film festivals, all as a write-off. off with your head;
Body loves the dirty work
Love your job, but it will never love you like an automobile
Fetuses, peoples, and angels hang the same on the mobile
If it wasn't for the blindfold, you'd ask
"what am I looking for, living for, breathing for?"
"who's them? not i, but it must be the plutonium in me."

[Outro]
It must be the plutonium in me...