Commute

Song Meaning

The lyrics paint a stark, unsettling picture of a fractured relationship, likely between a child and their mother, steeped in a peculiar brand of domestic dread. The opening lines, "Would I be a decent exorcist / running a braid / of copper wires / along my mother's / teeth," immediately establish a surreal, almost violent imagery. This isn't about literal spirits, but perhaps an attempt to confront or manipulate a deeply ingrained, perhaps inherited, darkness within the mother figure, or the dynamic itself. The narrator grapples with a profound sense of guilt and a distorted form of care. They acknowledge the mother's past suffering ("the bad years") and her reaching out, even as the narrator feels increasingly insubstantial, like "moths / make up most / of my body." This self-effacement contrasts sharply with the manipulative actions described: packing bags, sleeping in cars, and the chilling act of "stitch[ing] a mask / on her while she sleeps" to force forgiveness. The mother is trapped in a loop of memory, wearing the "same dress / in every memory," suggesting a static, unresolved past. The lyrics excel at creating a palpable atmosphere of decay and hidden transgression. The narrator admits to stealing money, a secret kept through the mother's "guilt," which ironically blinds her. This internal rot manifests externally: "Every surface / punctured," "Every curtain / drawn." The house itself becomes a character, "still sinking / when no one is / on board," mirroring the emotional state of its inhabitants. The final image of the highway beckoning the narrator to watch a "one lit room / slowly go dark" and the desire to "break / its windows / with my face" suggests a morbid fascination with destruction and a self-punishing impulse, perhaps seeking a cathartic release through total ruin.