I'm in the city you hated
My eyes are falling
Counting the clicks with the living dead
My eyes are red
I'm in the crush and I hate it
My eyes are falling
I'm having trouble inside my skin
I try to keep my skeletons in
Is it weird to be back in the south?
And can they even tell
That the city girl was ever there
Or anywhere
I'm having trouble inside my skin
I try to keep my skeletons in
I'll be your friend
And a f*ck up and everything,
But I'll never be
Anything you ever want me to be.
I keep coming back here where everything slipped
But I will not spill my guts out
I keep coming back here where everything slipped
But I will not spill my guts out
I don't need any help to be breakable, believe me
I know nobody else who can laugh along to any kind of joke
I won't need any help to be lonely when you leave me
It'll be easy to cover
Gather my skeletons far inside
It'll be summer in Dallas
Before I realize
I don't want you to grieve
But I want you to sympathize (alright)
I can't blame you for losing
Your mind for a little while (so did I)
I don't want you to change
But I want you to recognize (that I)
It'll be easy to cover
Gather your skeletons far inside
It'll be summer in Dallas
Before you realize
That I'll never be
Anything you ever want me to be
I keep coming back here where everything slipped
But I will not spill my guts out
I keep coming back here where everything slipped
But I will not spill my guts out
About This Song
"Slipped" is a haunting meditation on displacement and internal struggle, capturing the disorienting experience of returning to a place that holds painful memories while battling personal demons. The lyrics explore themes of alienation and self-destruction through vivid imagery of "living dead" and "skeletons," as the narrator grapples with feeling trapped "inside my skin" and torn between different versions of themselves. Musically, the song exemplifies The National's signature melancholic indie rock style, with Matt Berninger's baritone vocals delivering confessional lyrics over a brooding, atmospheric arrangement. The repeated phrase "I tried to keep my skeletons in" becomes a powerful metaphor for suppressing trauma and maintaining facades, while the fragmented final lines ("But I'll never be / Any") suggest a profound sense of incompleteness. The track stands as a compelling example of The National's ability to transform personal anguish into universally resonant art, making emotional numbness feel both intimate and cinematic.
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