ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine Lyrics Meaning – Decoding the Emotional Highs and Lows of Intimacy

You can view the lyrics, alternate interprations and sheet music for Lizzy McAlpine's ceilings at Lyrics.org.

Lyrics

Ceilings, plaster
Can’t you just make it move faster?
Lovely to be sitting here with you
You’re kinda cute but it’s raining harder
My shoes are now full of water
Lovely to be rained on with you
It’s kinda cute but it’s so short

Then you’re drivin’ me home
And I don’t wanna leave
But I have to go
You kiss me in your car
And it feels like the start of a movie I’ve seen before
Before

Bedsheets, no clothes
Touch me like nobody else does
Lovely to just lay here with you
You’re kinda cute and I would say all of this
But I don’t wanna ruin the moment
Lovely to sit between comfort and chaos

But it’s over
Then you’re drivin’ me home
And it kinda comes out as I get up to go
You kiss me in your car
And it feels like the start of a movie I’ve seen before

But it’s not real
And you don’t exist
And I can’t recall the last time I was kissed
It hits me in the car
And it feels like the end of a movie I’ve seen before
Before

In a landscape riddled with grand declarations and tumultuous love ballads, Lizzy McAlpine’s ‘ceilings’ cuts through the noise with its bare, intimate simplicity. Upon first listen, this song might sound like a soft-spoken confession of new love, but it unravels as a layered exploration of the fleeting moments that define modern romance.

Striking a chord with its poignant lyrics and McAlpine’s hauntingly beautiful delivery, ‘ceilings’ acts as a mirror reflecting the vulnerable stages of being in the threshold of love and reality. Let’s dive beneath its delicate surface to uncover the profound narrative stitched within the melody of this stirring track.

The Symphony of Surrender: When Vulnerability Takes Center Stage

As the song begins with the mention of ‘ceilings, plaster,’ the listener is invited into a realm of stillness—two people, alone together, with nothing but time witnessing their connection. McAlpine’s soft-spoken plea, ‘Can’t you just make it move faster?’ is both a want for the progression of a blossoming relationship and a deeper urge to escape the paralysis of the unknown.

The setting evolves with the weather itself—a rainstorm flooding not only the literal streets but also the emotional avenues that McAlpine and her companion are navigating. These details, seemingly mundane, evoke a profound sense of comfort found in sharing simple, quiet moments with another, even as chaos hums beneath the surface.

The Enigma of Emotion and Memory: Exploring the Song’s Hidden Meaning

‘You kiss me in your car / And it feels like the start of a movie I’ve seen before,’ sings McAlpine, striking a powerful image that resonates with the collective experience of cinematic romance deeply embedded in our culture. Here lies the song’s hidden arsenal—it evokes the universal longing for love stories that we’ve all admired on screen, while simultaneous acknowledging their scripted unreality.

McAlpine illuminates the moments of intimacy that feel destined, prescribed almost by the media we consume, yet she manages to weave in an awareness that real affection is both messier and more beautiful than those portrayed in films. It’s the recognition of the storybook beginning, knowing full well the final page may never align.

Comfort and Chaos: The Love Affair Between Serenity and Anarchy

In what can be considered the emotional nucleus of ‘ceilings,’ McAlpine juxtaposes the serenity of lying in ‘Bedsheets, no clothes’ with the chaos that often accompanies genuine human connection. It’s an ode to the stark, raw beauty that can be found in those quiet moments of touch and recognition, devoid of the tumult traditional love anthems often depict.

Yet, McAlpine doesn’t shy away from admitting that within that serenity, there is a riot—a torrent of feelings and thoughts that could spill out and ruin the delicate balance between ‘comfort and chaos’. The singer-songwriter masterfully captures the tightrope walk of expressing oneself without disturbing the peace that has been so tenderly built.

Memorable Lines That Linger Beyond the Last Note

‘And it’s not real / And you don’t exist / And I can’t recall the last time I was kissed’—the song crescendos into heartbreakingly transparent confessions. McAlpine articulates the duality of love and loss with such finesse that these lines become etched into the listeners’ psyche, a testament to the song’s lasting impact.

These words offer a glimpse into the disillusionment that often follows the heights of passion, a sobering reminder that memories of intimacy might be no more than apparitions in the end. The rawness with which McAlpine admits to the mortality of these moments conveys a maturity and existential acceptance that belies her youth.

Art Imitates Life: The Cinematic Coupling of Song and Story

The recurring theme of cinema runs deep in ‘ceilings,’ with the song itself feeling like a score to an unseen, yet achingly familiar, movie. This metaphor exemplifies not only the reflective nature of McAlpine’s writing but also underscores the performative aspect of modern-day romance—where one is often torn between living out their own narrative or assuming a role dictated by societal norms.

As the poignant melody fades out, listeners are left with the lingering question of what defines their love stories—are they originals, or adaptations of the films they’ve seen ‘before’? McAlpine leaves us pondering this, with her craft transcending music and gently nudging us towards introspection about the true essence of our emotional experiences.