The Soviet mewithoutYou
"The Soviet" by mewithoutYou, released in 2004, blends #PostHardcore with poetic lyrics exploring themes of identity, conflict, and existential struggle. The song features unique spoken-word elements and dynamic instrumentation, reflecting inner turmoil and societal critique. It resonates with listeners seeking depth in emotional and philosophical exploration.
[Verse 1]
God is love and love is real
But the dead are dancing with the dead
And whatever's charming disappears
While all things lovely only hurt my head
As I gather stones from fields
Like pearls of water on my fingers' ends
(And I carefully wrap them up in boxes, safe from windows)
(From things that break)
As the night-time shined like day
It saw my sorry face and hair a mess
But it liked me best that way
Besides, how else could I confess?
When I looked down like if to pray
Well, I was looking down her dress, good God
(Please, catch for us the foxes)
(In the vineyard, the little foxes)
[Bridge]
(So turn your ears, you musicians, to silence)
(Because they only come out when it's quiet)
(Their tails brushing over your eyelids)
(Oh, wake up, sleepers, and rise from the dead)
(Or the fur that they shed that's gonna lay on your bed)
(In a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red)
(Ah, but I don't need this, I don't need this)
(For I have my loves, I don't need this)
(In the vineyard, the little foxes)
(So turn your ears, you musicians, to silence)
(Because they only come out when it's quiet)
(Their tails brushing over your eyelids)
(Oh, wake up, sleepers, and rise from the dead)
(Or the fur that they shed that's gonna lay on your bed)
(In a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red)
(Ah, but I don't need this, I don't need this)
(For I have my loves, I don't need this)
(In the vineyard, the little foxes)
God is love and love is real
But the dead are dancing with the dead
And whatever's charming disappears
While all things lovely only hurt my head
As I gather stones from fields
Like pearls of water on my fingers' ends
(And I carefully wrap them up in boxes, safe from windows)
(From things that break)
As the night-time shined like day
It saw my sorry face and hair a mess
But it liked me best that way
Besides, how else could I confess?
When I looked down like if to pray
Well, I was looking down her dress, good God
(Please, catch for us the foxes)
(In the vineyard, the little foxes)
[Bridge]
(So turn your ears, you musicians, to silence)
(Because they only come out when it's quiet)
(Their tails brushing over your eyelids)
(Oh, wake up, sleepers, and rise from the dead)
(Or the fur that they shed that's gonna lay on your bed)
(In a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red)
(Ah, but I don't need this, I don't need this)
(For I have my loves, I don't need this)
(In the vineyard, the little foxes)
(So turn your ears, you musicians, to silence)
(Because they only come out when it's quiet)
(Their tails brushing over your eyelids)
(Oh, wake up, sleepers, and rise from the dead)
(Or the fur that they shed that's gonna lay on your bed)
(In a delicate orange-ish cinnamon red)
(Ah, but I don't need this, I don't need this)
(For I have my loves, I don't need this)
(In the vineyard, the little foxes)
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