Meaning of "Staying Gold" by Brick + Mortar
The lyrics of "Staying Gold" delve into themes of existentialism, disillusionment, and the search for meaning. The opening lines express a sense of frustration and futility in searching for answers or finding solace in anything. The narrator acknowledges the pointlessness of their conversations and their deteriorating mental state. They long for someone to turn to and speak to, someone who could understand them and offer guidance. However, there is a sense of desperation and pleas for help, as they fear they may be losing their grip on reality.
The repetition of the chorus, "I don't believe you, I'm never coming home," suggests a rejection of societal norms and a desire to break free from the constraints of conformity. The narrator wishes they could believe in something as deeply ingrained as belief itself, but they are unable to trust in anyone or anything. They desire to do things their own way and avoid returning to their perceived sense of home, which may represent a state of comfort and complacency.
The line, "Despite my moral degradation, in the shadow of a moment in time," reflects a sense of guilt or shame for losing their moral compass. It implies that the narrator has strayed from their values and ideals, perhaps due to the struggles they are experiencing. They desperately seek someone to lean on and confess their need for support and understanding.
The bridge introduces the idea that if God exists, they have not provided answers or explanations for the pain and suffering in the world. This can be interpreted as a critique of religious beliefs or a questioning of the nature of a higher power. The final lines express a shared mortality, acknowledging that death is inevitable, but hoping for an understanding of the reason behind it.
Overall, "Staying Gold" explores the emotional turmoil of searching for purpose and trying to find one's identity. It portrays a sense of disillusionment and a longing for connection and understanding in a complex and confusing world.
