The Game – Poets of the Fall

Here is an interpretation and insight into the soulful and energetic song “The Game” by Poets of the Fall, from their latest album : Clearview.

Disclaimer: I do not own any lyrics of their song. They’re just awesome!

Lyrics :

She’s plastic

She’s speed-read

A classic line between the lines

Fantastic and half-dead

His tactic blind to warning signs

Her clashes of colors

Are flashes of society

In ashes

His dollars like posters of a tragic love story
See the puppet master laugh

Astride a pale horse

And take another photograph

For selfie intercourse

Reading out the epitaph

Of our pointless wars

For love we will tear us down
He’s shooting at shadows

Portraying a proper soldier boy

She’s thinking in logos

Still searching for the real McCoy

Broadcasters, they’ve got this

Disasters a wasp of a satire

Like actors who French kiss

Right after someone stole their fire
See the puppet master laugh

Astride a pale horse

And take another photograph

For selfie intercourse

Reading out the epitaph

Of our pointless wars

For love we will tear…
Us down that beaten path she treads

Mirage the blushing bride he weds

Yesterday’s diamonds and pearls

Now worthless trinkets in their world

The salty tang of blood

Sensations running hot

Snow blindness in pitch darkness

Mindless rage

And then you…
See the puppet master laugh

And take another photograph
See the puppet master laugh

Astride a pale horse

And take another photograph

For selfie intercourse

Reading out the epitaph

Of our pointless wars

When love

Love could be our crown
My Interpretation :

Generic girl (plastic and classic) who’s fashion sense changes according to society’s preferences. But she’s half dead because she’s basically one of those ‘plastics’ who acts and walks and talks like a doll and this doesn’t make any difference for in the end she’s doomed to die just like everyone in big or small wars.

The boy has money just like classic love stories with wealthy boys like Romeo or Paris. 

In a way the stage is set but we already know how it’ll end.

The puppet master is destiny, or fate who rides the pale horse, maybe alluding to Death himself. As we are consumed in a culture where we have forgotten how to live without photographing it; the selfies will be the only proof that we will have left when we are dead. They shall be the epitaph of our plastic lives because we wasted our time being like the girl and the guy they mentioned above fighting stupid wars and justifying them by calling it ‘love’


Yogya

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