Story Behind the Song
"Slow Torture" was originally five paragraphs of random thoughts I sketched out during a study hall in 9th grade. I completely rewrote it a month later in the perspective of the corpse of a suicide.
The first verse/paragraph is nothing more than a stream-of-consciousness interpretation of random thoughts going through the suicidal's mind; it serves to illustrate the splintered and scattered suicidal thoughts. The final two lines move the verse from the consciousness to reality ("I jumped from the bridge with the sharp rocks below. The river was just an added bonus").
The second and third parts are from the perspective of the suicidal's body from jumping into the river to the corpse being found. It's only function was to paint a vivid picture of each second after life ceased.
The calmness (and ultimately, the silence) of the grave is depicted in the final verse. Like the first verse, it uses stream-of-consciousness; random thoughts are interjected into the flow and various points. A lot of people believed I wrote the song from the eyes of someone only dreaming of dying, due to the line "How long have I been asleep?" That line in particular was to be interpreted as denial; the suicidal doesn't want to believe they are truly dead, yet they reflect on how much they miss life.
I recorded the song in 1997 in one take, explaining the slurring of words, the pauses and the less-than-acceptable sound quality. It wasn't split into bars so I tried my best to fit it into a pattern and style as I went along. Ultimately, I was very happy with how it turned out at the time. It paints a very explicit picture and evokes a strange emotion in some people. I'm not sure if I'd ever record it again, however. My mind was in a certain zone at that time, both in the lyrics themselves and the delivery you hear in the song. I don't know if I could ever capture that feeling again.
Lyrics
I was never considered with value, I was always expendable. Many times have I questioned my soul's worth and found not an answer, but more mumbled words and trite remarks ... breathing the cold air ever so slowly ... extending an icy cloud from my lungs ... letting it float from my mouth like migrating poppy fields. Sleep is extinct. I sit here in comfort of a whale's belly, waiting to be spewed into the New World. So I walk not the road more or less-traveled, but the uncut version of the director's final vision of grandeur, shocking only those adapting to narcissism. As I leap to the canyon's opposite side without a parachute ... I only thought angels plucked harps while descending Heaven. Thinking without pattern or outline should be outlawed. Let every man, woman and child conform. Sameness is bliss; bliss is pleasure; pleasure is illegal. I am an outlaw. Shoot me dead with authority. The bullet wound is just another broken heart ... gangrene lust. And as the sun sets on the dark side of the moon, I let the water invade my digestive and respiratory systems, ending my life with a quick flood. Noah wasn't saved. I jumped from the bridge with the sharp rocks below. The river was just an added bonus.
In the last seconds of my breathing, I believe I was more worried of the waters carrying my lifeless body below the liquid surface. I hoped that I would be found and mourned for, rather than my flesh slowly stripped by deep currents and dragging stones. Either way, the sharp rocks were the first murderers. Their edges sides welcomed my back with jutting grips. I think I screamed but I might have already been dead and only dreamed of my voice echoing through my throat. My eyes were fixed on the blue sky as my peripheral vision caught blood leaping from my body. The water quickly ran to my side in concern. Slowly, it began to hold me close, comforting the crimson beauty I leaked. I was dragged once again into the whale's belly, drifting downstream, both head and limb were smashed against rocky extensions while I was carried by the river's funeral precession. I felt no pain, but only guessed the vibration of the contact with the river's granite inhabitants. I was finally set upon a sandy shore. The water gently pressed me to land and I remained gazing to the sky in awe.
The young boy stood above me with eyes wide. I could tell he thought I was simply sleeping with eyes open. It wasn't until he nudged me with the tip of his new sneakers that he discovered that my blood no longer ran. When I think about it, I'm glad my blood no longer needs to run, to escape, to flee. I don't have to run, to escape, to flee any longer. I questioned my thoughts of pity for the child, finding such a thing by his fishing stream's banks. I was no longer a person, only a thing. I had lost the ability to call myself by pronoun. They addressed me as an "it" when they found me, blue and red smashing into each other on a cold slab of steel. They discarded me in a bag. They cut me. They examined me. They embalmed me. It felt so good inside a three-piece suit as they readied me for the ceremony. The cotton warmed my rigor mortis position. I saw so many faces and so many tears ... crying, weeping, sobbing ... all for me. They praised me, kissed me, talked to me, held my hand one last time. And as they lowered me into Mother Earth's stomach, I heard the quiet thump of roses being hurled onto my wooden prison.
Every day my flesh weakens. I drift, wandering through thoughts of how good whipped cream tasted as I licked it of off the fingertips of the woman I love. She visits my grave every day and she tells me how much she misses me. And she washes my tombstone with her tears. My best friend pours me liquor that soaks through the dirt. ... but now I'm once again an orphan. God, I miss my love's lips on my cheeks ... her arms around my neck. My girl was so much more than a friend. I miss her eyes, her fingers tracing my smile. Worthless. I left her but I don't have the choice to go back. I'm gone forever ... a citizen of Atlantis. I would give anything to feel the sun glow on my face one more time. Do you know what time it is? How long have I been asleep? Show me the universe before you leave again. It's darker every day. I met a man named Gulliver while I traveled. We are quite alike. Pray for my return.
Slow torture. Stolen soul. I once wished I was a star, now I am among the clouds.
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