Un-thought of Heroes

Where are we going to be? It's getting so hard to remember to feel. Struggling more and more to recall six minutes worth of a dream, you forgot when you woke up. Died-in-the-wool to last, for the sake of Christ you ask,"What am I to do?" Who is there to trust with one leg already six feet deep? Fighting the current of man's existence of the conciousness you can't fucking grasp. To give, or to take for yourself? Another night spent in silent rage, set against. Set against yourself.

Un-thought of heros.

Poured out and flowing over, at the same time bottled up, then pissed out. Company of misery; introspect of the fool, to your dreams you shed a distant effort. While you rid the sense of mobility and shatter all that could set you free. Never could set your hands on comfort in the wars end being your own personal revenge. Yet escaping every sense of consequence. No this is nothing personal; this is just who I am. Another night spent in silent rage, set against. Set against yourself.

Un-thought of heros.



I have no idea what this song is about, but its got a pretty cool sound to it

still no opinions on this?

This is the only AM! song that I really don't understand. It's a good song, but the lyrics really confuse me too.

I think that not always is there a real good translation to songs, and that there's not always a chance for anyone but the author to understand it.

good song i think its about war vets

an Eternal Cowboy wrote:

good song i think its about war vets

I may be wrong, but I don't think Vivida-Vis! era Tom would write about war veterans in a positive way.

I interpretted it pretty simply, i think its a song just about surviving from day to day, keeping your head above the surface (above the poverty line/ above the surface of the sea of anger that rages inside/above the moral line you set yourself to guide behaviour and actions). I thought it was a song about how difficult this is and all those who do it are heroes, but never mentioned, the value of their actions and efforts lost in an age of lavish mass-consumption and valueless indulgence. But am i being dumb? is that obvious and we´re talking about what this description of daily life represents?

[lyrics]

Where are we going to be?
It's getting so hard to remember to feel.
Struggling more and more to recall six minutes worth of a dream, you forgot when you woke up.
Died-in-the-wool to last, for the sake of Christ you ask,"What am I to do?"
Who is there to trust with one leg already six feet deep? Fighting the current of man's existence of the conciousness you can't fucking grasp.
To give, or to take for yourself?
Another night spent in silent rage, set against.
Set against yourself.

Un-thought of heros.

Poured out and flowing over, at the same time bottled up, then pissed out. Company of misery; introspect of the fool, to your dreams you shed a distant effort.
While you rid the sense of mobility and shatter all that could set you free.
Never could set your hands on comfort in the wars end being your own personal revenge.
Yet escaping every sense of consequence.
No this is nothing personal; this is just who I am.
Another night spent in silent rage, set against. Set against yourself.

Un-thought of heros.


I have to agree with most everyone on this thread, that this song is one of the hardest of AM! songs to decifer, but just as with many of the other songs by AM!, regarldess of album, it is best to break them down, and analyze each verse to make sense of the big picture. Meaning, is discovered through time, it does not simply pop out at you, like a picture in a childrens book. Take the first verse :

Where are we going to be?
It's getting so hard to remember to feel.
Struggling more and more to recall six minutes worth of a dream, you forgot when you woke up.
Died-in-the-wool to last, for the sake of Christ you ask,"What am I to do?"
Who is there to trust with one leg already six feet deep? Fighting the current of man's existence of the conciousness you can't fucking grasp.
To give, or to take for yourself?
Another night spent in silent rage, set against.
Set against yourself.

When I read the opening lyrics to this song, I almost think of someone who is in a hospital, someone who is sick, and perhaps dying, (whether this be a war verteran, a cancer patient, someone mentally ill, or someone who is dying of loneliness). It is truly someone in desperation, someone who feels lost, and uncertain, and the sound of Tom's voice only emphasizes this even more. The timidness, but intenseness of his vocals, make him seem as if he is in complete solitude, but in deep thought. Life in the past is a dream to them, what they had before, perhaps this being love, free, at home, and safe. We lose sight of what was once real, as soon as we become intangled in a new reality, whether it is something we wish to be apart of, or are somehow brought to lvie through by force, or by chance. Thus, by asking the question " Where are we going to be?" seems to elude to teh fact taht, they have become lost, disillusioned, and perhaps hopless about the future-uncertainty begins to eat away at the brain.

It's getting so hard to remember to feel.
Struggling more and more to recall six minutes worth of a dream, you forgot when you woke up.
Died-in-the-wool to last, for the sake of Christ you ask,"What am I to do?"

When one becomes so involved, whether it be at war, killing and shooting, or in sickness, etc etc, we forget waht it is like to feel, to be free. We are numb, and everything around us just consumes us, eats us whole. If this is in fact about a war vet, then it could be said that war, killing, all of this madness done for a purpose a goal not of our own, has consumed them, taken away from a dream, a dream which was once their past, ap ast full of freedom, and happiness, a true freedom not brought on by violence and rebellion. It reminds me of this concept of inner-revolution, a revolution of the mind. What was once the dream of a happy man, or woman, child, mother, father, etc, becomes a nightmare, this new dream in which we struggle to survive. " You forgot when you woke up", because you simply can not distinguish the difference anymore. It all becomes on in the same, so you ask yourself, " what am I to do?" - how do I regrain this lost ground- how do I win this battle?-who will I be? You want to feel secure, to know that everything will be okay, that once the war is over, (whether it is a literal war, or one that is figurative, perhaps of the mind), that life will regain order, and these struggles will past.

Who is there to trust with one leg already six feet deep? Fighting the current of man's existence of the conciousness you can't fucking grasp.
To give, or to take for yourself?
Another night spent in silent rage, set against.
Set against yourself.

It is hard to know what he means by " sick feet deep ", but I think of someone who is lost, and unable to trust anyone, maybe not even themselves. Also this idea of "six feet deep" almost sounds like " six feet under ", which would parallel a person burried underground, once they have passed. It is as if he is saying, I can trust no one because I have burried myself so deep, deep in thought, deep in a "conciousness I can't fucking grasp" - to tie in the next segment. We become so lost in ourselves, lost in our loneliness, our own personal struggle, that we bury ourselves, just as one might bury themselves in work, or in teh game, or in the heat of battle. We become a victim, to our own mind, that even the people around us, seem like foreigners, even those who might be close to us, we cannot trust them, we cannot feel the way we should anymore, because we are so caught up "fighting the current of man's existence..." Current, being that of a river. The current takes us places we do not know, it is strong, and we cannot fight it off, no matter how hard we try. We fight and we fight, we are relentless in our struggles, but it is something we are always striving to understand, or to fix, but we simply cannot.

To give, or to take for yourself?
Another night spent in silent rage, set against.
Set against yourself.

Do we fight just for the self, or do we fight to gain control and be free, to give to those around us? Do we fight for freedom for all, or just teh freedom within ourselves? Sometimes in the midst of battle, whether it is during war, against cancer, any illness for that matter, or even a war of the mind, we forget about others-we forget who has been fighting for us, who fought for us, and who perhaps will fight for us- so we must ask ourselves - To give, or to take for yourself? We can't keep fighting without knowing our purpose, even though sometimes this purpose isn't discovered until the very end of our struggles. When I read "Another night spent in silent rage, set against.
Set against yourself," I visualize someone lying in bed, and it's dark, and they have their hands pushed up against the side of their head, as if they are trying to shut out the many voices inside their head. It is not an outward battle, one visibly to the human eye, but one raging inside the psyche. You are not plotting against another person, another race, another country, but against yourself. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy, and the very act of fighting against "this evil", turns out to be entirely self-destructive in the end. It is a vicious cycle, that we all face.

"
Un-thought of heros.

Poured out and flowing over, at the same time bottled up, then pissed out. Company of misery; introspect of the fool, to your dreams you shed a distant effort.
While you rid the sense of mobility and shatter all that could set you free.
Never could set your hands on comfort in the wars end being your own personal revenge.
Yet escaping every sense of consequence.
No this is nothing personal; this is just who I am.
Another night spent in silent rage, set against. Set against yourself.

Un-thought of heros.
"

Now- after going over the very first verse, it makes much more sense as to who, or what un-thought of heros are. It is you, that is perhaps this un-thought of hero, or the war vertern, or the dying patient in the hospital, or the hermit in the mountains, it is those of us who struggle internally for peace, it is those of us who fight within ourselves in search for harmony - but perhaps never reach. When we think of a hero, we think of someone who does something heroic, and courageous, perhaps wins a glorious battle, conquors vast lands, but we do not think of perhaps the poor man on the side of the road, who many sits each day in teh cold, thinking, and fighting for a better life. We do not look to ourselves, do we? After all the sleepless nights, and the endless fighting within the mind, it is those battles, those fights, those milestones in which we make that makes us heros. We are all our own heros, and medals do not need to prove this. I do belive that un-thought of heros, is could be just as much you, as it could be me. I know throughout my life, through endless struggles, I have fought against myself, trying to find out who I was, make sense of my past, and in some ways try and bring back my past, and it is moments like that where I reflect and look to myself now and know, that I have made it out alive. I am an un-thought of hero. I'm sure many of you can relate.

"Poured out and flowing over, at the same time bottled up, then pissed out. Company of misery; introspect of the fool, to your dreams you shed a distant effort. "

There are many references to water in this song, such as "current" from earlier, and now "poured out and flowing over". It is like a battle, a struggle at sea. We fight ourselves, but our brain pours us out, along with all of these fighting/conflicting thoughts, and we we flow over the edge, as if we tossed off the ship. We are rejected even by our own minds. But it could even be interpreted as how we react to others. Our emotions are over the top, and flow out from our minds, and into the world, but at teh sametime we are "bottled up", and timid. We don't confide, or perhaps dont reveal the truth of what is going on inside...but soon we are "pissed out", emotions come tumbling out once more, perhaps with anger and frustration, onto those we love. And thus, we have a "company of misery", we lash out, we only have ourselves, we are alone, and we are miserable, and this is our company, this is who we have become. The introspect of the fool, we reflect on who we have become, we are the fool, in this fight, we are a fool in this war, in this hospital wing, and "to your dreams you shed a distant effort" could mean, that perhaps our dreams of a better place, of freedom, etc etc, are from our reach, since we no longer fight the way we should, we the fool.


"While you rid the sense of mobility and shatter all that could set you free.
Never could set your hands on comfort in the wars end being your own personal revenge.
Yet escaping every sense of consequence.
No this is nothing personal; this is just who I am.
Another night spent in silent rage, set against. Set against yourself. "

Just as we are so emotional, and perhaps so out of control internally, we lose teh ability to mobolize our thoughts, our perhaps ourselves physically because we have "shatterd all that could set you free". We have essentially shattered ourselves, we have become truly lost, or it could be seen as you literally shatter everything, you destroy, you kill, you shoot, all in your path, heartlessly, meaninglessly. You can not accept this wars end, tehre is no safety, no comfort in this, and this idea of finally reaching freedom after so long, is but your own revenge, another battle which you seek -" nevfer could you set your hands on comfort in the wars end"- there is no beauty in this to you. And yet, just teh same, for all of this destruction, you strive to escape, you strive to find someone else to blame, something else to blame, you can't seem to take the consequences for your own destructive behavior, whether this being a literal destruction of people, of possessions, of a metnal-destruction, one of the brain.

No this is nothing personal; this is just who I am.
Another night spent in silent rage, set against. Set against yourself. "

here tom seems to be making a shout out, to those listening in, or maybe even to himself, taht please do not take offense, this is nothing against you, you jsut have to understand that this is who I am. This fight, this struggle, everything inside of me, the emotions, it is all part of this large equation that makes up who I am. And yet again, he ends the song, with " another night spent in silent, rage. set againt. set against yourself." It brings a nice sense of closure to the song, because it shows us that it is a cycle, no matter how long the fight, no matter what, here he will be, here these un-thought of heros will continue to struggle, continue to fight, against all inside of them...a cycle that will perhaps never end.

So this is my interpretation of the song, and after analyzing it, I suppose I find this song more symbolic, then actually referring to something literal. It is an internal struggle, for something beautiful, for something meaningful, for the ability to understand. Although, all of the above interpretations are just as equal and likely.

Carolyn, you know exactly what I have to say about that...
I love you.

Daggar Slade wrote:

Carolyn, you know exactly what I have to say about that...
I love you.

, and you know Daggar, that I love you too, very much so!

best thread reply ever? could well be cenaco. that was immense! the hospital imagery now hits me like a wet tuna to the testies. powerful. i get lost in a kafka-esque twisted reality (´the trial¨ particularly, when k is feeling ill in the lawyers apartments, overwhelmed with the physical difficulty of getting clean, fresh air and the psychological effort of battling against an unknown charge levied against him by a beaurocratic tribunal system that dissappears like fog when he attempts to get information) where perception becomes more and more like a certain truth, paranoia being the tool used to form this new disillusiuon. Feeling like your already half in your grave it seems there is no way to swim back against the current of man´s existence, which is pushing us to our death. Although I´d always thought that the current was pushing us down a moral river, seeing a gradual decline in the way humnas treat each other, this current being a historical trend essentially where man´s existence seems to just get crueller and crueller...like...in a "courteous opressor" kind of way....distancing feeling from action and commiting the most vile acts in the name of efficiency and progress with little or no recognition of the suffering of which they are, in part, promoting. This consciousness that is promoted, this consciousness you can´t fucking grasp, this new mentality to look after your self and your money (and maybe your stupid little geographical space drawn on a map with pencil). This consciousness of selfishness, of ignornace, of leaving those less fortunate behind, is what i can´t grasp. This chase for personal gain is echoed when he says "to give or take for yourself", we seem to be battling with our own mind like cenaco says, but i think we´re battling over the decision to join the zombie crass commercial lifestyle, and start being out for what you can get (taking) or whether to continue in an optimistic manner, ever striving to give back as much as is given to you, in terms of money love and ideas, so as to push against the current decline of idealism and fight the historical trend of a sinking consciousness (giving)...maybe....
ok im at work so i cant really keep writing. shit. but, like the end of cenacos interpretation, maybe we can get our own cycle spinning here with loads of interpretations constantly re-evaluating each other, theres gotta be hundreds of people on this sight, surely thats hundreds of interpretations alrerady! what do you have?

ps. the next bits about bottled up emotions and silent rage I think cenaco wrote about beautifully. nail. head. bam. cant touch it.

haha, carolyn

Mark Narra wrote:

haha, carolyn

aww mark

blackgardenmutinies wrote:

best thread reply ever? could well be cenaco. that was immense! the hospital imagery now hits me like a wet tuna to the testies. powerful. i get lost in a kafka-esque twisted reality (´the trial¨ particularly, when k is feeling ill in the lawyers apartments, overwhelmed with the physical difficulty of getting clean, fresh air and the psychological effort of battling against an unknown charge levied against him by a beaurocratic tribunal system that dissappears like fog when he attempts to get information) where perception becomes more and more like a certain truth, paranoia being the tool used to form this new disillusiuon. Feeling like your already half in your grave it seems there is no way to swim back against the current of man´s existence, which is pushing us to our death. Although I´d always thought that the current was pushing us down a moral river, seeing a gradual decline in the way humnas treat each other, this current being a historical trend essentially where man´s existence seems to just get crueller and crueller...like...in a "courteous opressor" kind of way....distancing feeling from action and commiting the most vile acts in the name of efficiency and progress with little or no recognition of the suffering of which they are, in part, promoting. This consciousness that is promoted, this consciousness you can´t fucking grasp, this new mentality to look after your self and your money (and maybe your stupid little geographical space drawn on a map with pencil). This consciousness of selfishness, of ignornace, of leaving those less fortunate behind, is what i can´t grasp. This chase for personal gain is echoed when he says "to give or take for yourself", we seem to be battling with our own mind like cenaco says, but i think we´re battling over the decision to join the zombie crass commercial lifestyle, and start being out for what you can get (taking) or whether to continue in an optimistic manner, ever striving to give back as much as is given to you, in terms of money love and ideas, so as to push against the current decline of idealism and fight the historical trend of a sinking consciousness (giving)...maybe....
ok im at work so i cant really keep writing. shit. but, like the end of cenacos interpretation, maybe we can get our own cycle spinning here with loads of interpretations constantly re-evaluating each other, theres gotta be hundreds of people on this sight, surely thats hundreds of interpretations alrerady! what do you have?

ps. the next bits about bottled up emotions and silent rage I think cenaco wrote about beautifully. nail. head. bam. cant touch it.

I loved your bit about the moral current and "consciousness". a+++++

I believe its about someone who is struggling to find his beliefs, between being an anarchists or supporting politics. Who has dreams and hopes, but he slowly changing, dreams are changing and throwing some away, like anarchy. "Struggling more and more to recall six minutes worth of a dream, you forgot when you woke up." Asking "What am I to do" and "who is there to trust?" Theres so many things going on, its hard to decide whether you want to believe in politics or let them go. And hes got all this hate for it, but cant let it go and bottles it up and when he wants to let them go, he cant.
idk thats just my thoughts on it

lol

anyone know what the speech at the end is? Who it is?

President Clinton.

Yeah I figured but was it the somalia speech? sounds like it. not sure though?

Alright found it. Its on the Iraq missle strike. http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/wjclintoniraqairstrikes.htm