Boris

Song Meaning

The lyrics paint a picture of a detached, almost voyeuristic creator figure, referred to as "Boris," who derives satisfaction from constructing and then dismantling small, insignificant things. The narrator expresses a desire to "feel wanted" and to "make a lot of generate the one eyed mouse," then immediately follows with the destructive impulse: "Build 'em up and let 'em fall." This cyclical pattern of creation and destruction, of building and then letting things collapse, establishes a core tension. The narrator seems to be enacting a form of control, finding pleasure in the process itself, regardless of the outcome or the nature of the creations. The lyrics suggest a complex relationship between the narrator and "Boris," who appears to be an external force or perhaps an alter ego. Boris "likes a lot of little things to kick" and "knows and Boris likes it all," indicating a pervasive, almost omniscient presence. The line "See Boris has way of seein' through my eyes" is particularly striking, blurring the lines of agency and suggesting that Boris is not just an observer but an active manipulator, controlling the narrator's perceptions and actions. This creates a sense of unease, as the narrator's own desires ("let's feel wanted") become entangled with Boris's seemingly arbitrary impulses. The most compelling aspect of the writing is its stark, almost absurdist imagery and the bluntness of its pronouncements. Phrases like "lay them flat like monkey man" and the casual mention of drug use ("up the nose") contribute to a raw, unfiltered tone. The repetition of "Taken up and take them tall" acts as a refrain, reinforcing the theme of construction and elevation, only to be contrasted with the inevitable "let 'em fall." The narrator's declaration, "I say I can't but I really mean I won't," further emphasizes a willful, defiant stance, even within the context of being "manipulatin' me my arms and legs and spine." Ultimately, these lyrics resonate because they capture a feeling of being both the architect and the pawn in one's own life. The detached, almost clinical description of creation and destruction, coupled with the unsettling sense of external control, taps into a primal anxiety about agency and purpose. The raw, unvarnished language makes the narrator's complex internal state – the desire to be wanted, the compulsion to destroy, and the feeling of being manipulated – feel viscerally real, even as the specific narrative remains elusive.