Song Meaning
The opening lines paint a picture of a disengaged, almost paralyzed state: "You don't scream, you can't scream / Find yourself unaware of the room." This sets a tone of detachment, where actions are performed to equalize or align, "cut the difference so to be at the same level of frequency." The narrator seems to be consuming something, inviting another to do the same, in a bid to create "new versions of us ourselves." There's a strange, almost hopeful directive to "keep a watch that they let us on land," followed by a jarring juxtaposition of "handle on the laughs" and the violent image "cut off their hands."
The core of the track appears to be a simmering, intense resentment, culminating in a repeated, chilling refrain: "I can't wait until I see you die." This sentiment is amplified by the inclusion of racial slurs, "Call me 'a-rab' / Call me a 'spic'," suggesting a deep-seated anger and a desire for retribution against those who have wronged the speaker, perhaps through prejudice or other offenses. The repetition of "I can't wait" underscores the obsessive nature of this anticipation.
The lyrics then shift to a more abstract, yet equally unsettling, exploration of coping mechanisms. The repeated "We can dream" offers a potential escape or a way to process, but it's immediately tied to a disturbing purpose: "to help my friends come to terms and be way less uncomfortable around violence." This suggests that dreaming isn't a passive act of escapism but an active, perhaps even complicit, engagement with aggression. The final lines, "You wish for it to come / And when it does I want to watch you eat those words," reveal a desire for the antagonist's downfall and humiliation, a vindication that the speaker eagerly awaits.
What makes these lyrics so potent is the stark contrast between the initial passivity and the explosive, violent fantasies that follow. The seemingly mundane act of "consuming" and creating "new versions of us" is twisted into a prelude for extreme aggression. The repeated "I can't wait" functions as a rhythmic anchor for escalating rage, while the dream sequences reveal a disturbing normalization of violence as a means of dealing with trauma or perceived injustice. The writing forces the listener to confront a raw, uncomfortable anger that finds solace in the imagined demise of others.
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