It started out with a happily ending
The mom, the dad, the kids pretending
That all was well within the ranks
Till they whipped out the rifles and set up the tanks
I’m a nothing, I’m a flea
Drowning in a hot milk sea
Fallen down the grassy hill
Lay broken at the bottom with Jack and Jill
What to live for, they tell me What I’ll grow up to be Who to see, and how to see What to be, they tell me Who they see But who they see will never be me
The world around was moving slower
Crouched in my seat and sinking lower
Grades were dropping, clothes were slopping
Bursting bubbles all were popping
Take what’s left, keep it protected
Act cool and unaffected Grassy knees and broken crown
Pick up your bones after you fall down
They went out for just one last bite, of their tasty candy tequila night While happily stoned stumbling home, They found their children sittimg alone King and Queen of Hearts and no one else, you can tie their ribbons, while they ring their bells But it’s awfully hard to fill a gaping gap on another nice Mommy or dear Daddy’s lap They gave it their all, they gave it their best, but they weren’t the ones to undo their own mess
Follow me, my rain black cloud
The giant voices are too loud
Sometimes her, it’s sometimes him
Through these boozed up veins I swim
It’s not my favorite game to tell
Who pushed and yelled until I fell
Under here, a screaming shout
Please someone get me out right now
by Rachel Adell
Back story to some of the symbolism in this song…
Rifles and Tanks: Home felt like a war zone. (Wait until I tell you about a dream I had about three years ago about plastic toy artillery trucks from the 80’s being stored under my rib cage. Talk about symbolism)!
Flea: When my parents divorced, my emotional needs were at the very bottom of everyone’s list. No one asked me what I wanted, how I was feeling. I felt small and insignificant.
Hot milk sea: Left alone with a mother who shared her unhappiness with me, and I felt like I was drowning a lot of the time.
Jack and Jill: A throw back to traumatic childhood poetry with a horrible ending and no explanation, seemed to match the feelings I had about my parents divorce. I was only seven years old and it ruined me.
The Chorus: This section is from an old poem I wrote in high school. “What to live for, they tell me…” This confusing chorus is all about how the adults in my life felt they had a right to tell me how to live and what I’d become. When in reality, it was their negligance that would determine how I would need to be. As a child, when your needs are not met at home, you find a way to get your needs met and go into survival mode. I went internal, I made music, I wrote, I made art. And though I may have outwardly obeyed to avoid something as intimate as a conflict, I did not absorb the foolish musings bestowed upon me. Most any adult in my life, I made dang sure they didn’t know the real me. Even as a child I knew they didn’t care about me, they only wanted to control me for their own peace of mind and convenience.
Clothes were slopping: This was middle school when I deliberately let my grades drop to see if anyone would care. Surprise! Most did not.
Bursting Bubbles: I would get my hopes up about a lot of potential scenarios where my mom would remarry the current guy she was dating, and settle down and we’d have a normal life again. But after she continued the cycle of dating and breaking up a few times, I learned to turn off those hopes and focus on things within my control.
Boozed up Veins: I wouldn’t say my mother or father were moderate drinkers. For my Dad it felt leisurely and just habitual, whereas for my mother it felt like she was numbing pain. I always felt my mother’s sadness simultaneously pouring into her glass and my heart.
Under Here: I would often scream into my pillow or under my blanket, and I felt like I was trapped under water or under hundreds of bricks and no one could hear me, let alone help me.
Wow, sad song right? But the happy instrumentation. That’s always been me. When I’m sad, I try to find a way to put a bounce in my step. This used to be a survival instinct to mask my broken heart as a child. Very few took the time to look past the mask, those were the people I still keep close to my heart. As an adult I turn to light things simply to change my mood. Music, natural light, dancing, running, art, or laughing seem to do the trick. I find that once I’m out of my doom and gloom and in a more balanced logical head space, I can better evaluate my situation anyway. Don’t underestimate the fake happy people, sometimes they’re just being plain smart. Ha!