In the past couple years I've been lucky enough to start to wake up. Not a new age wake up but just quite literally, eyes open. There are many versions of being asleep and I've been many of them for most of my life. One part of my waking has been coming to terms with how much I lie to myself still and the epic novels of lies I've self-directed in my past.

This whole song, the plaintiff and the jury are all one, are all me. Of course, if you feel different, then they're not. But in the moment of inception, "I mean to say I meant to stay" was itself a microcosm of a trick that I pulled on myself, on girls, on friends and on my mother as a youngster. Sly, manipulated, seemingly related statements that could mean something, but most of the times were merely a way of buying time to get to the next lie/line. A poetic way out, "a practiced line spoke too many times." The point of view in the song moves back and forth between the jury and the plaintiff. They take on each other's attributes when addressing the other, or they are each other's attributes. They're both annoyed and scared at times, trying to find some truth as well as place for truth. It sounds funny to say it that way, and by funny I mean presumptuous and self-important. I suppose that's also part of the reason it's said in a slightly convoluted way: in order to point out the gravity of the quest, this other heaviness or heavy otherness, I unwittingly - or wittingly - add obstacles that will maybe help show the seeker the true girth of what they find. The convolutedness is also most definitely a by-product of my fear of utter vulnerability. So maybe that's what it's about? Or maybe it's just about girls.