My brain generates earworms as some sort of mental self-torture. It is insanely easy for something, somewhere to remind me of a song that plays over and over and OVER in my restless, seething brain.
Today, for example, we saw the neighborhood cat who likes to sit in his front lawn as the kids walk to school, because the children squeal his name in delight and rub his big, furry head. Unfortunately for me, his name is "Joey."
It's not that bad of a song, actually. I've had far worse earworms, that's for sure. But the lyrics crack me up. It's like an episode of Tool Academy put to music.
This song typifies how women misunderstand men. The singer thinks her boyfriend ("Joey") is somehow complicated and "fighting a secret war;" that he's suffering and in pain.
From what I understand from these lyrics, he's hitting her up for money, she got mad and said no, and he went and got drunk with his friends somewhere. She felt bad about it, because she can't bear to think of this deep, sensitive soul suffering as he battled his demons. She must help him!
The reality is, guys like Joey are not complicated at all. Deep thinkers and feelers typically don't go around sponging off their girlfriends and falling down drunk -- they're usually either off creating art somewhere or building a future for the person they love or trying to make a difference in the world. The Joeys of the world are usually driven by their reptilian brains and are nothing more than cheap pleasure-seekers.
I don't know too much about Concrete Blonde or the people in the band, but I prefer to think these lyrics are kinda tongue-in-cheek. Come on, sing it with me: "And if you're somewhere out there passed out on the floor... Oh Joey, I'm not angry anymore."
