It's funny though, because I've been listening to that song for a really long time now. I listen to it when I'm happy, I listen to it when I'm sad, I listen to it when I just want something else in my ears besides my own breathing. And yet, I still don't know all the words.
Regardless of the countless times that song has traveled through the squishy cracks of my brain, the only things I ever remember are the subtle strength of Damien's voice, the melody, and a few choice lines. I tend to find myself singing along to the first "And so it is..." and then trailing off into a faint hum. I'll meet back with Mr. Rice at the "can't take my eyes off of you" in the quasi-sobbed chorus.
The lyrics are usually the thing I admire most of a song. But sometimes, no matter how good the poetry is, you just don't want to fully absorb it. It'll sit flat on the surface, trying to marinate your thoughts but for some reason, your brain's wearing an umbrella.
It's never bothered me, though. Damien, just like any other artist, wrote that song in hopes of being able to speak to others through it. Every artist has a message they want to communicate. Whether that message be transmitted via words or the sound of words depends on the recipient.
Some people just don't understand that. Everything is meant to be acknowledged and payed attention to, and it's nice to poke and prod at the innards of someone else's psyche through their metaphors and flat-out hallucinations. You can unscrew anything. You can take it apart and put it back together. However, art is made to be appreciated, not to be burned out.
It's fine to read a story and not think about the religious undertow. It's fine to look at a painting and not notice the innuendo. It's fine to listen to a song and forget all the words. You're allowed to like something based on the sole reason that you like it.
Let the tale be spun for you, let your eye be transfixed by a single color, let music float in your head.
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