Saint Bernard by Lincoln Lyrics Meaning – A Dive into the Psyche of A Modern-Day Confessional
Lyrics
To remind me that i am a fool—
Tell me where i came from, what i will always be:
Just a spoiled little kid who went to catholic school
When i am dead i won’t join their ranks
Because they are both holy and free
And i’m in ohio, satanic and chained up
And until the end, that’s how it’ll be
I said make me love myself so that i might love you
Don’t make me a liar, because i swear to god
When i said it i thought it was true
Saint calvin told me not to worry about you
But he’s got his own things to deal with
There’s really just one thing that we have in common
Neither of us will be missed
A saint bernard sits at the top of the driveway
You always said how you loved dogs
I don’t know if i count
But i’m trying my best
When i’m howling and barking these songs
Lincoln’s raw and evocative song ‘Saint Bernard’ presents a sobering self-reflection nestled within the confessional booth of indie music. With its piercing lyrics and haunting melody, the track holds up a mirror to the complexities of self-identity, faith, and the pursuit of authenticity.
The artist’s use of catholic imagery and existential dread offers a labyrinth of meaning for listeners to navigate, as he treads the line between sanctity and sacrilege. But what deeper truths lurk behind this Ohio bard’s weary words? We take a journey through the soulful verses to uncover the heart of ‘Saint Bernard’.
Divine Imagery as the Mirror to the Mundane
Lincoln layers ‘Saint Bernard’ with an array of religious references, which act as anchors in the tumultuous sea of his thoughts. He contrasts the saints depicted on his wall—symbols of virtue and divine aspiration—with his self-declared foolish and chained existence. It’s an artistic play of contrasts; the ideal versus the real.
The song becomes a sanctuary where Lincoln confronts his perceived failures against the backdrop of religious success. He doesn’t picture himself ascending to the ranks of the saints post-mortem—a feeling of dissonance between who he is and who he is ‘supposed to be’ according to his Catholic upbringing.
Ohio’s Own Satanic Chains – The Weight of Place and Origin
There’s something universally relatable yet insidiously personal about Lincoln’s mention of Ohio—a maelstrom of background, identity, and perhaps a sense of entrapment. To be ‘Satanic and chained up’ is not merely geographical but an emblem of a spiritual and existential predicament.
In voicing his discontent with his roots, Lincoln touches on a broader theme of fighting against the bindings of origin. He’s staked to the ground, not by literal chains, but by psychological and societal expectations, with ’till the end, that’s how it’ll be’ resonating as a reluctant surrender to fate.
The Unveiling of a Modern Confessional
Lincoln’s cry for self-love and the subsequent revelation of his own self-doubt reflect an internal struggle mirroring the confessional booth. Each line is a prayer, not to the saints, but to the self—to be better, to be worthy, to be loved. It’s a modern-day psalm sung by the doubters and the seekers.
The deceptive simplicity of asking to ‘make me love myself’ reveals a more complex yearning for personal transformation and the search for meaning in a landscape where traditional dogma no longer suffices as an answer—or a cure.
Neither of Us Will Be Missed – The Song’s Heartbreaking Admission
Amid the stark realities and inner battles, one of the song’s most memorable lines draws attention to both a shared human experience and a somber musing on legacy. ‘Neither of us will be missed’ perhaps captures the greatest fear—indifference after we’re gone—while also touching on ephemerality and the shared fate of oblivion that bonds us all.
Lincoln’s alignment with Saint Calvin highlights the universality of this sentiment—it’s not self-pity but a resonant truth that speaks to the listener as well. It’s a raw acknowledgment of our collective insignificance in the vast dance of the cosmos.
Howling and Barking the Songs of Humanness
The closing scene where the Saint Bernard sits loyally waiting becomes a potent symbol. It’s the meeting point of past and present, of hope and realism. The dog is loyal, steadfast, and loving—the qualities that define Lincoln’s aspirations and, by extension, our own struggle to find and embody those traits.
In the act of howling these songs, Lincoln embodies the Saint Bernard’s spirit, bridging the gap between human frailty and the noble pursuit for connection and understanding—howling into the void with the fierce hope that, in our barking, we are heard and, perhaps, understood.
