Die In The Summertime

Well, they don’t make them like this anymore, and that’s probably for the best as there’s only so many minutes that we can hold on to our sanity for when faced with such madness. The most Metal song on The Holy Bible, it’s another terrifying moment filled with shocking honesty and images of purity juxtaposed with stinking bile. The lead riff is as sinister as they come, Bradfield has never sounded more like a banshee, literally and metaphorically, the main solo is completely all over the place and all the better because of it, while the chorus is gloriously massive. Melodically wonderful throughout, the guttural mashing of vocals and ideas is such that a thousand fans’ throats have been permanently disfigured in its emulation.

Die In The Summertime: 4/Great

Misheard Lyrics: 1. Scratch my leg with a rusty nail, Sally it heals.

2. I can’t seem to stay a fixed idea

3. Show’s your pain, show’s rising/ Shoulder’s pain, she’s riding/Showed a pig she’s rotten.

4. Grope myself without bloated lines/Seek my without broken lies

5. Whole days throwing sticks at the seems

6: The hole in my life brings a stench of soil/The hole in my life – fever scares our soul (or fever scares us all, or fever scars our soul).

7. The heart breaks to barely a pulse

Actual Lyrics: 1. Scratch my leg with a rusty nail/Sadly it heals

2. I can’t seem to stay a fixed ideal.

3. Childhood pictures redeem.

4. See myself without ruining lines

5. Whole days throwing sticks into streams

6. The hole in my life even stains the soil

7. My heart shrinks to barely a pulse

The Story Of The Song: The song is another window into Richey’s mind at the time – his writing clearly concerned with regret, aging, and the loss of childhood. This was playing on Richey’s mind at the time and in one of the lesser noticed details of the album, there are many photographs of the band as children or younger adults included in the liner booklet. The lead character in the song wishes that he could make it to the summer time -the period which they most fondly associate with memories, childhood, comfort – and die. No matter how much the narrator tries to change themselves – colouring their hair, cutting their skin – they can not stop the process of aging any more than they can reverse it.

Tell it like it is!

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