01 Lonely Star by The Weeknd Lyrics Meaning – Navigating Stardom’s Lonely Echoes
Lyrics
Promise me you won’t regret me like the tattoos on my skin
Like the wrong pill
Promise me when they all love you that you’ll remember me
When you fuck them, you’ll see my face
My body is yours
Every Thursday
It seems like pain and regret are your best friends
Ooh, oh yeah
‘Cause everything you do leads to them, why?
Run, run
But baby, I could be your best friend (Ooh)
And baby, I could fuck you right (Ooh whoa)
Baby, you could have it all (Ooh yeah)
Baby, you could have it all (Ooh yeah)
Baby, you can have the cars, the clothes, the jewels, the sex, the house
Baby, you could be a star (Ooh yeah)
Baby, you could have it all
Baby, you could have it all
Baby, you can have the cars, the clothes, the jewels, the sex, the house
Baby, you could be a star
Woah, you’re blaming all your sins on your best friends
And nothing’s ever, ever your fault
Nothing’s your fault baby, no
Well baby, you don’t need your best friends (Woah, oh woah)
‘Cause I got everything you want (Ooh ooh, yeah)
Baby, you could have it all (Ooh baby)
Baby, you could have it all (Ooh yeah)
Baby, you can have the cars, the clothes, the jewels, the sex, the house
Baby, you could be a star, baby you could be a star
Baby, you could have it all (Ooh)
Baby, you could have it all (Ooh yeah)
Baby, you can have the cars, the clothes, the jewels, the sex, the house
Baby, you could be a star (Ooh yeah)
Yes, all I could say is yes
Promise me you won’t regret me like the tattoos on my skin
Like the wrong pill
Promise me when they all love you that you will remember me
When you fuck them, you’ll see my face
My body is yours
Give them any other day but Thursday
You belong to me
Every Thursday
I’ll wait for you
I’ll be beautiful for you
Every Thursday
I exist
Only on Thursday
Not on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday
But on Thursday, Thursday
Not on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday (Sunday)
But on Thursday
I love the guitars
The Weeknd, an artist who perennially cloaks profundity beneath lush melodies and haunting production, continues this trend with ’01 Lonely Star.’ At face value, the track could be misconstrued as another iteration of R&B hedonism and excess. However, in true Weeknd fashion, the facade of glamour masks a labyrinth of emotional intricacies worthy of concerted navigation.
The lyricism in ’01 Lonely Star’ pivots around a central theme of unrequited devotion set against the backdrop of superficial splendor. With a lyrical tapestry woven through with threads of possession, regret, and the hollow allure of fame, The Weeknd paints a picture of a complex relationship dynamic that resonates with both the one who has risen among the stars and the lover left adrift in their wake.
Through the Looking-Glass of Excess
The Weeknd sets the stage with a grandiose offering of ‘the cars, the clothes, the jewels, the sex, the house’—a litany that reads like a checklist for the ultimate high life. It’s a seductive image, emblematic of the heights to which his lover can aspire. But beneath the decadence of these trappings lies an unsettling emptiness; these objects are presented as mere accessories to the true prize: becoming a ‘star.’
This repeated promise, ‘Baby, you could have it all,’ isn’t generous—it’s a gilded cage. It speaks to the hollowness of a star-studded lifestyle when divorced from genuine human connection. Each iteration is both an enticement and a lament, showcasing how the shimmer of celebrity can distract from the authentic desires of the heart.
A Labyrinth of Memories and Regrets
In one of the song’s most poignant moments, The Weeknd begs, ‘Promise me when they all love you that you’ll remember me.’ This admission of vulnerability undoes the bravado of earlier verses. The specter of being forgotten, reduced to a lingering memory ‘like the tattoos on my skin,’ is the star’s true peril—fame’s bright but transient light obscuring the lasting imprints of deeper connections.
The notion of remembrance serves as a linchpin for the song’s narrative. There’s a piercing awareness that the soulful protagonist, while offering the world, anticipates becoming a ghost in their own love story, haunting the periphery of his lover’s ascent to glory.
The Unseen Shackles of Stardom
The lyrics often equate love with possession, a common trope in The Weeknd’s discography. ‘My body is yours,’ he confesses, indicating a total surrender, but this apparent gift of self is not without conditions. ‘Give them any other day but Thursday,’ he commands, laying claim to a scheduled intimacy that simultaneously acknowledges and attempts to circumvent his partner’s autonomy.
Thus, the relationship delineated in ’01 Lonely Star’ is one marked by negotiation and territoriality. The undercurrent of control juxtaposed with wanton freedom reveals the paradox at the heart of The Weeknd’s romantic ethos—a search for absolute loyalty within the impermanence of fame’s rotating carousel.
A Solemn Pledge Amongst the Echoes
The persistent references to ‘Thursday’—not just as a day of the week but as a consecrated space in time—give rise to an intimate ritual. This boundary in a boundless existence where the star and his lover can exist as their true selves is at once sacred and somber. It’s a private expanse where the promises made hold more weight than the frivolity surrounding the other days.
‘Every Thursday, I’ll be beautiful for you,’ pledges the protagonist, committing to a moment that pierces the veil of ordinary life. This day is a silent witness to truth, beauty, and perhaps, in its cyclical recurrence, an echoing sincerity that counters the one-dimensional appeal of fame.
Echoes of a Haunting Desire
Delving into the song’s hidden meaning, it’s clear that The Weeknd is grappling with the passage of time as an antagonist to constancy in love. The countdown of days—Monday to Sunday—is explicit, yet Thursday stands out as the axis around which the week—and indeed, the emotional life of the protagonist—revolves.
The obsession with ‘Thursday’ is symbolic not only of expectation and exclusive attachment but also embodies a profound statement on the ephemeral nature of joy against the backdrop of a life consumed by pursuit. ‘But on Thursday, not on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday’—the repetition hammers home the yearning for a persistent, elusive moment of authenticity.
