Keep the Faith
Catch Me
They'd made it so clear. They'd showed you all the signs, put them on display in the songs. The lyrics spoke so clearly of the pain and loss, but you could never believe them. This was the Patient's story, not the band's. They were completely fine. More than fine.
In fact, they were so 'fine' that they weren't human anymore. They were statues. Granite, smooth and perfect, whose only job was to be put on a pedestal. Heaven forbid they be chipped; it was impossible.
But you see, even statues can feel pressure. You push on them, they break. Even statues can wear down and get tired. You stare at them day after day, scream for them day after day, and soon enough they're exhausted and spent.
They tried to show you. They tried their hardest to shove it all in your face, but you never noticed. Every night, the little statues sang and played and drummed. But you never noticed what it was they were saying.
"I'm just a man; I'm not a hero."
"I'm just a boy, meant to sing this song."
"A life that's so demanding, I get so weak."
"I'm not o-fucking-kay."
No, those words were just a few among thousands. They didn't mean a thing. Just pretty words sung by a pretty face, and they could go no deeper.
To you, there was nothing under the surface. Nothing. There was no longer a message that you heard. It was just a band of five beautiful boys who made beautiful music that didn't mean a thing.
It didn't matter that you used to love them for being imperfect; they now had to be perfect every second of every day.
It didn't matter that they had affected you; you didn't want the burden of affecting them.
It didn't matter that they'd never lost faith in you; you hated them at the drop of a hat.
Was it fun for you? Did you enjoy seeing them fall? Was it fun to see that lead singer crying onstage? Did it make you feel important, in control? How about when you scoffed the word 'hero' at him? Do you get your kicks from bringing them to rock bottom?
For they did indeed hit rock bottom. Within a few months of their third record release, the rumors started. Were you the poison behind those words, the anonymous lips that spread the hate? People talked of drugs and lies. Were the people you, in disguise?
When those boys turned lost and lonely, were you the first to turn away? Were you the one to start the trend of abandoning Hero? Who did you convince to leave, as you did?
Did you see it when the band fell? Toppled from the stage and collapsed into the crowd? They all broke their necks. No one was there to catch them.
In fact, they were so 'fine' that they weren't human anymore. They were statues. Granite, smooth and perfect, whose only job was to be put on a pedestal. Heaven forbid they be chipped; it was impossible.
But you see, even statues can feel pressure. You push on them, they break. Even statues can wear down and get tired. You stare at them day after day, scream for them day after day, and soon enough they're exhausted and spent.
They tried to show you. They tried their hardest to shove it all in your face, but you never noticed. Every night, the little statues sang and played and drummed. But you never noticed what it was they were saying.
"I'm just a man; I'm not a hero."
"I'm just a boy, meant to sing this song."
"A life that's so demanding, I get so weak."
"I'm not o-fucking-kay."
No, those words were just a few among thousands. They didn't mean a thing. Just pretty words sung by a pretty face, and they could go no deeper.
To you, there was nothing under the surface. Nothing. There was no longer a message that you heard. It was just a band of five beautiful boys who made beautiful music that didn't mean a thing.
It didn't matter that you used to love them for being imperfect; they now had to be perfect every second of every day.
It didn't matter that they had affected you; you didn't want the burden of affecting them.
It didn't matter that they'd never lost faith in you; you hated them at the drop of a hat.
Was it fun for you? Did you enjoy seeing them fall? Was it fun to see that lead singer crying onstage? Did it make you feel important, in control? How about when you scoffed the word 'hero' at him? Do you get your kicks from bringing them to rock bottom?
For they did indeed hit rock bottom. Within a few months of their third record release, the rumors started. Were you the poison behind those words, the anonymous lips that spread the hate? People talked of drugs and lies. Were the people you, in disguise?
When those boys turned lost and lonely, were you the first to turn away? Were you the one to start the trend of abandoning Hero? Who did you convince to leave, as you did?
Did you see it when the band fell? Toppled from the stage and collapsed into the crowd? They all broke their necks. No one was there to catch them.