Both as a standalone and as part of the DSOTS album, you can take this lyric as read. As a matter of public record, Jourgensen's drug intake was legendary even in the 1980s. By the late 90s, in his own words, he was grappling with massive addiction issues and had lost almost everything: friends, spouse, money and had nearly died more than once. "Dark Side of the Spoon" is a both funny & sad title for an album made by a musical genius who was losing the plot; and this song is a message to his fans & friends saying he knows it. It's painful to listen to so I'm glad the "Keith Richards of industrial metals" wised up and cleaned up. Well done sir.
By the light of the lamp I sit to type-
my notes on tab at my side
I don't see the sun much these days
A fluorescent tan covers my hide
How much impact shall I have this time?
My goal today is to reac the deadline
I write between the lines
I deal with fantasy
I report the facts
Give them to me, please
Ham and egg sald on white bread
keeps me company on nights like this
A pack of metholated cigarettes
keeps my air nice and thick
When I write, words flow like coins from a candy box
Get out of my way
I've got something to say
The pulse is beating louder now
The cramps in my hands grow more intense with
Each tik, tik, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap on the keys
My social life is at an end so it seems to be
Why don't I trample on your lawn today?
I'll take skies of blue, turn over skies of grey
I write between the lines
I deal with fantasy
I am the pressman
Acknowledge me
Mother always told me never stray too far from home
The little lady said,
"Boy, you'll never have to be alone, because,"
You build with fountain pen
You create the memory stain
You are the pressman
Stand up straight, boy
my notes on tab at my side
I don't see the sun much these days
A fluorescent tan covers my hide
How much impact shall I have this time?
My goal today is to reac the deadline
I write between the lines
I deal with fantasy
I report the facts
Give them to me, please
Ham and egg sald on white bread
keeps me company on nights like this
A pack of metholated cigarettes
keeps my air nice and thick
When I write, words flow like coins from a candy box
Get out of my way
I've got something to say
The pulse is beating louder now
The cramps in my hands grow more intense with
Each tik, tik, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap on the keys
My social life is at an end so it seems to be
Why don't I trample on your lawn today?
I'll take skies of blue, turn over skies of grey
I write between the lines
I deal with fantasy
I am the pressman
Acknowledge me
Mother always told me never stray too far from home
The little lady said,
"Boy, you'll never have to be alone, because,"
You build with fountain pen
You create the memory stain
You are the pressman
Stand up straight, boy
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It’s crazy that he wrote this back in 89 when it’s so incredibly similar to the ways of press 30 years later in 2019. “Writing between the lines” & “deal with fantasy” should not be something the press does. It’s facts. Plain and simple like Walter Cronkite delivered but because this particular character is so lonely and envious of others he is transforming facts to skies of gray, imploring through his hypocritical low rent words to be the hero and victor. Such a great song and very much ahead of its time