Bad Music Theology: "Timber" by Pitbull (feat. Ke$ha)

by Ben Howard 

Every so often I come across a pop song so catchy that I can't stop listening to it, but with lyrics so terrible that I hate myself every time I press play. Such is the case with "Timber" by Pitbull and Ke$ha.

Since I can't seem to stop listening to this bizarre song, which I can only assume is about sexy lumberjacks felling trees in dance clubs, I've decided to do the next best thing: wildly re-interpret it using theological language that has almost no connection to the intended reality of the song. Follow me as we over-interpret, under-interpret, make associations based on the most tangential of evidence and generally wreck Holy Havoc on this pop music phenomena.

This is Bad Music Theology. 

(If you must, you can listen to the song here, but I wouldn't.)

[Ke$ha]
It's going down, I'm yelling timber
You better move, you better dance
Let's make a night you won't remember
I'll be the one you won't forget 

As the song begins, Ke$ha sets the stage for our tale. She serves as a type of Greek chorus, foreshadowing the epic confrontation we are about to witness. “It’s going down” she announces. She tells us that our movement and dancing are imperative for this will be a night we won’t remember and this bodily act of worship will be required. 

Wooooah (timber), wooooah (timber), wooooah (it's going down)
Wooooah (timber), wooooah (timber), wooooah (it's going down) 

Here we find the hallelujah-call of the dance floor being repeated again and again. Interspersed are repeated mentions of the word “timber.” But to what does this word refer? I can only suggest that it is a reference to the wood idols and altars that will fall in the presence of the Lord. 

[Pitbull]
The bigger they are, the harder they fall
These big-iddy boys are dig-gidy dogs
I have 'em like Miley Cyrus, clothes off
Twerking in their bras and thongs, timber
Face down, booty up, timber
That's the way we like to–what?–timber
I'm slicker than an oil spill
She say she won't, but I bet she will, timber 

As Elijah once served as a prophet and interlocutor for the Lord, here Pitbull takes his place as the prophet of the Almighty. Clearly this song is a reinterpretation of Elijah’s confrontation with the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18.

He mocks the size and scope of the clergy opposing him, rejoicing in the victory he will claim over the “big-iddy boys” and “dig-gidy dogs.” Next he mocks the way in which he will reveal the failures and faults of their gods in the face of the Lord. He finds them to be “Twerking in their bras and thongs,” clearly a reference to their priestly vestments and the sandals which shod their feet.

He repeats the word “timber” over and over again, reinforcing the way in which their idols and altars of wood will fall. The “say she won’t,” but the ever-confident prophet Pitbull, “bet she will.” Timber indeed. 

Swing your partner round and round
End of the night, it's going down
One more shot, another round
End of the night, it's going down
Swing your partner round and round
End of the night, it's going down
One more shot, another round
End of the night, it's going down 

Pitbull offers these false prophets one final chance. He allows them to call upon their gods a final time, to try and wake them. He calls after them to “swing your partner round and round” for this is the “end of the night” and “it’s going down.” Even after they initially fail, he allows them “one more shot, another round.”  

[Ke$ha]
It's going down, I'm yelling timber
You better move, you better dance
Let's make a night you won't remember
I'll be the one you won't forget

It's going down (it's going down), I'm yelling timber
You better move (you better move), you better dance (you better dance)
Let's make a night you won't remember
I'll be the one you won't forget (you won't forget) 

Once more our Ke$ha, our Greek chorus, returns to reinforce the message to the audience. The moment of anticipation has come, the audience should be on its feet to “move” and “dance.” She repeats the call, building the tension of the story. Tonight is a night they will not want to forget! 

Wooooah (timber), wooooah (timber), wooooah (it's going down)
Wooooah (timber), wooooah (timber), wooooah (it's going down) 

Hallelujah for the Lord is coming to conquer the false gods and the false prophets

[Pitbull]
Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
Nah, it's just me, ain't a damn thing changed
Live in hotels, swing on planes
Blessed to say, money ain't a thing
Club jumping like LeBron now, Volí
Order me another round, homie
We about to clown. Why? 'Cause it's about to go down 

Here we find Pitbull in his prophetic role speaking on behalf of the Almighty. He beckons us to “look up in the sky.” And what do we find there? Is it a bird, a plane (clearly a prophetic anachronism)? No, “it’s just me” the I AM and “ain’t a damn thing changed.”

He mocks the luxury of the false prophets who “live in hotels” and “swing on planes,” for in the eyes of the Lord “money ain’t a thing.” He asks his “homie,” who one assumes to be his prophet Pitbull, to “order another round.” This can only be an order to pour out the water to be used in the sacrifice because “it’s about to go down.” 

Swing your partner round and round
End of the night, it's going down
One more shot, another round
End of the night, it's going down
Swing your partner round and round
End of the night, it's going down
One more shot, another round
End of the night, it's going down 

Pitbull offers the sacrifice, swinging round and round in celebration at the presence of the Lord. It is now “going down.” The moment of the Lord’s presence has arrived

[Ke$ha]
It's going down, I'm yelling timber
You better move, you better dance
Let's make a night you won't remember
I'll be the one you won't forget

It's going down (it's going down), I'm yelling timber
You better move, you better dance (you better dance)
Let's make a night (let's make a night) you won't remember
I'll be the one (I'll be the one) you won't forget (you won't forget) 

Ke$ha returns once again to lead the audience in exalting the greatness and majesty of the Lord. He has conquered the false prophets and proved himself to the mighty. It has gone down. We are yelling timber! Move! Dance! 

Wooooah wooooah (hey), wooooah (it's going down)
Wooooah wooooah (timber), wooooah (it's going down)

Wooooah (timber), wooooah, wooooah (it's going down)
Wooooah (timber), wooooah (you won't forget), wooooah (timber) 

A final round of exultant “Hallelujahs” from the dance floor! Amen. 

Ben Howard is an accidental iconoclast and generally curious individual living in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also the editor-in-chief of On Pop Theology and an avid fan of waving at strangers for no reason. You can follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87. 

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology. If you'd like to support what we do, you can donate via the button on the right of the screen.

Image Credits:
Image #1 via Eva Rinaldi 
Image #2 via Peter Neill 
Image #3, a Greek Orthodox Icon
Image #4 via Eva Rinaldi
  

You might also like:  

• Bad Music Theology: "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke (feat. Pharrell and T.I.)
• Bad Music Video Theology: "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons
• Bad Music Theology: "I Knew You Were Trouble" by Taylor Swift

The Gnostic Gospel of Gaga

Image via Amelia Adina

by JaneAnn Kenney 

What is the message that Mama Monster is preaching to her little monsters? I present for your consideration the none-too-contrived and barely subtle Gnostic Gospel of Gaga according to her new single (with R. Kelly—didn’t realize he was still a thing) “Do What U [ugh SIC] Want.” Allow me to skip certain portions of the song because—let’s be honest—it’s a bit repetitious. Also, allow me to preface by saying my first thought when I heard the song was, “That’s so Gnostic!” and then it got more complicated, and then I decided I was right the first time. Thus:

I feel good, I walk alone/But then I trip upon myself and I fall/I, I stand up, and then I'm okay/But then you print that shit/That makes me want to scream.

Despite the seemingly simple syntax of this verse, I’m not entirely certain what she means to say. Part of the problem is that she has embraced her inner angsty thirteen year old who doesn’t want to tell her best friend, who we'll call "Casey," that feelings have been hurt outright, and so couches her frustration in “you know who you are” language. It’s like when Irenaeus talks about the “certain men [who] have set the truth aside, and bring in lying words and vain genealogies.” Paul does the same thing with his supposed super-apostle. Can we all agree to stahp it?

Certainly it feels good to walk alone sometimes, but then Gaga falls of her own doing (probably the heels) and doesn’t have a buddy around to help her up. Yet, she staggers haltingly to her feet in those enormous heels (why?) and feels alright. Keeps walking. The real issue here is when she addresses me. What shit did I print? This is the first (and last, most likely) time I ever plan to write about her. What have I printed?! I’m terribly sorry to have forgotten, because it was either so hurtful or so infuriating that she just needs to scream.

Image via Andrea Wilson

Then again, maybe she is not speaking in the second-person singular, but the second-person plural, which might suggest that Gaga is actually referring to a collective entity and not just my mercurial temperament. Certainly her penchant for over-the-top wardrobe and styling has raised eyebrows, ruffled feathers, etc., from her entirely steak-dress to that time she desecrated Minnie Mouse by murdering her boyfriend in the Paparazzi video. (I really didn’t choose balanced examples, huh?) All levels of the press want to know what Gaga is wearing (or not wearing; so much booty!) and then praise or vilify her choices. This, more than my slights, likely makes her want to scream.

So do what you want/What you want with my body/Do what you want/Don't stop, let's party/Do what you want/What you want with my body/Do what you want/What you want with my body.

If the previously-discussed publications from the journalism peanut gallery are what Gaga has in mind, then this might actually be a worthwhile message. Fine, analyze what I’m wearing, she says, tear it apart. Wonder why I insist on these shoes that make mobility seemingly impossible, criticize my make-up for detracting from my natural allure, wonder at my ever-changing hair. Do what you like, because all you are doing is looking at skin, and having chosen to present myself this way, I am willing to allow you to discuss it, ridicule it. Do what you want with my body. Your words do not measure my worth or the worth of any other person.

This, of course, really is good news. Less daring than Gaga, I present myself in ways which hopefully do not invite much comment beyond “Are you allowed to mix metallics?” As an expression of one’s personality and mood, appearance can be liberating, and whatever anyone thinks of that really has no bearing on value. Fun stuff.

Then again, maybe she was talking to me, Second-Person Singular? Despite the outrage of whatever I penned, Gaga is giving me permission to use her body however I want. Although flattered, I think my idea of a party will not be tip-top on her list, seeing as how the highlight of my cosmetic year is wearing false eyelashes on New Year’s Eve. That said, I would give her a nice make-over, maybe dye her hair a dark auburn, some full bangs and a shoulder-length bob. Simple make-up, and some classic red heels.

Image via Stephen Carlile

Write what you want/Say what you want 'bout me/If you wanna know that I'm not sorry.

It’s awfully nice of her to give me permission, but once again, I am confused. Why isn’t she sorry? She did miss my birthday again this year, but so did a coupla other people I’ve spoken to recently, so I can let it slide, I guess. Don’t know why she’s not sorry though. Kinda harsh, actually. I’m going to assume she’s talking about someone else, probably a Tabloid of Ill-Repute.

Ah, here it is again: Do what you want/What you want with my body/What you want with my body.

The cheese doesn’t get really binding (real thing; educate yourself) until we get here: You can't have my heart/And you won't use my mind but/Do what you want (with my body)/Do what you want with my body/You can't stop my voice cause/You don't own my life but/Do what you want (with my body)/Do what you want (with my body).

Is Gaga letting us think and speak however we want about her, or is she letting us do whatever we want to her? The answer, really, may be “yes.” However, let’s consider past lyrics from Lady G. From Lovegame: “I'm on a mission,/And it involves some heavy touchin' yeah./You've indicated your interest,/I'm educated in sex, yes./And now I want it bad,/Want it bad./A love game,/A love game.” From Bad Romance: “I want your drama/The touch of your hand/I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand/I want your love.” Then again, we have Born This Way: “I'm beautiful in my way/'Cause God makes no mistakes/I'm on the right track, baby/I was born this way/Don't hide yourself in regret/Just love yourself and you're set.”

I guess what I’m saying is that Gaga can be overtly sexual, but she’s not worried about it. The music in combination with the videos in combination with her self-presentation is all meant to cause a labyrinth, and I, unwitting fool that I am, have fallen in. On the one hand, this could be quite a reassuring message: against materialism, superficiality, the ideals of beauty for both men and women. Certainly if these are intended, then Gaga is on to something, and with her anti-bullying platform it is certainly possible that she intends these things. However, given her penchant for overtly sexual content, it is at least as likely that Gaga intends for you (me? him? her? I don’t know any more) to gratify sexual desires with her body as much as one pleases and in whatever way that one pleases so long as no one expects her to change on anything other than a physical or chemical level as a result.

Image via Zennie Abraham

Despite all this, there is still an argument to be made for a fully-developed Gnostic gospel at work in Gaga’s body of work, not least in this song. Paul may have been battling proto-Gnosticism in Corinth, but this has developed in 2,000 years into a fully-matured worldview. St. Irenaeus is really my go-to guy here, but first: let’s discuss the heresy. With these lines suggesting physical and sexual permission without intellectual, emotional, or even spiritual repercussions, Gaga promotes the prominent Western heresy of the separation of soul and body. The apparent belief is that it doesn’t matter what happens to her body as long as the one who does it cannot access her heart, her mind, or her voice. In fact, she has made these other components of herself totally off-limits. I may be able to dress down her wardrobe as I see fit, but I’d be forced to leave her mind and heart out of it. The voice, like God’s spirit hovering over the darkness, will not be stilled by mere corporeal injunctions.

The emphasis on the importance of the voice, the mind, and the heart in contrast to the body is the very heresy that St. Irenaeus and others spoke against. The emphasis on the mind of the believer to the detriment of the body led to all sorts of strange activities, from neglect and ascetic abasement of one’s own body to an excessive revelry in activities like—dare I say it?—sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. Though we cannot find the soul in our medical books, what happens to the body does have its effects upon the soul. We need not look very far to find examples of persons who have been abused in one way or another and suffer holistic trauma as a result.

Most of the rest of these lyrics are pretty useless for theology, and I’m willing to blame R. Kelly: Early morning, longer nights/Tom Ford, private flights/Crazy schedule, fast life/I wouldn't trade it in/'Cause it's our life (now let's slow it down...).

I don’t know Tom Ford. I could Google him, but I don’t want to use up all my internet money on senseless crap like that. The gist is R. likes his life.

I could be the drink in your cup/I could be the green in your blunt/Your pusha man, ya I got what you want/You wanna escape all of the crazy shit/You're the Marilyn, I'm the president/And I'd love to hear you sing, girl.

Image via Yne Van De Mergel

R. Kelly continues with his… flow? The problem with this verse is his comfort being the physical drink, the physical green, a pusha, and the president, but I’m not sure how Gaga is going to feel about being told to sing. You can have her body, after all, but not her voice.

Some more chorus, rude words, moving on.

A hook? A bridge? I’m not sure: Sometimes I'm scared I suppose/If you ever let me go/I would fall apart/If you break my heart/So just take my body/And don't stop the party.

This is the heart (get it? get it?) of the matter. This is where it seems most clear that the song is primarily about pure sexual conquest. Gaga professes a belief that I (or is it R. Kelly, or the man represented by R. Kelly? The use of second person is so confusing). can take her body and not stop the party without breaking her heart. Based on other parties (poker parties, love game parties, dancing parties, etc.) I unapologetically assume this party is not a “let’s rat on everything Gaga wears” party but instead a sort of Eddie Izzard “swimmy swimmy, splashy splashy, chasey chasey” party. I’m just sorry to be the one to tell her it’s not true.

The body matters. What happens in the body matters. What happens to a body matters, even after it has died. If this were not so, there would be no point in God becoming incarnate and then allowing himself to be crucified as a human, in the flesh. It is totally senseless. Why not take a mental flogging, or simply send the Holy Spirit into hell for a few hours? Instead, Jesus was born and lived in a body which he still lives in, glorified as it is. This is gospel—there isn’t a single aspect of our created beings which God does not want to redeem. He willingly demonstrated the worth of the body by dwelling among us.

At the end of the day, I have done exactly what Gaga wanted: I have taken her art seriously, in spite of its presentation and apparent blithering idiocy. Agree with me or don’t, but I think I’ve argued the main points to a standstill. Or not. At this point, I’m still debating pronouns. 

You can ask JaneAnn about: Nashville, theology, cats. Baseball. Glacial rivers. Her stance on the color purple, and then again the existence of the word "purple." General frivolity and terrible music (for the DANCING!!). Old Stephen King novels, time zones, and toll roads in Oklahoma. She will not, however, answer any questions about that thing living in her fridge. You can follow her on Twitter @JAKof3Ts. 

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology. If you'd like to support what we do, you can donate via the button on the right of the screen.
  
You might also like:  

• Einstein: A Tale of Cats and Eschatology
• Reflections on Ecclesiastes at a Gazillion Feet (Approx.)
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Bad Music Theology: "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke (feat. Pharrell and T.I.)

by Ben Howard

Every so often I come across a pop song so catchy that I can't stop listening to it, but with lyrics so terrible that I hate myself every time I press play. Such is the case with "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke. I'm contractually obligated at this point to mention that Robin is the son of TV's Alan Thicke (He's Canadian!) making him the almost-brother of uber-conservative crazy person Kirk Cameron. The 80's were fun.

Since I can't seem to stop listening to Robin Thicke's misogynistic ode to sexing up the ladies, I've decided to do the next best thing: wildly re-interpret it using theological language that has almost no connection to the intended reality of the song. Follow me as we over-interpret, under-interpret, make associations based on the most tangential of evidence and generally wreck Holy Havoc on this pop music phenomena.

This is Bad Music Theology.

If you'd like to listen to the song as you read you can find the video here. Note: Video is probably NSFW.

(Warning: strong language, sexual imagery)

Everybody get up 
Everybody get up
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Pharrell introduces himself as our herald by directing us all to "get up" for we are about to hear from an important person. He beckons us with the attention-grabbing and familiar "Hey" repeated in a treble of trebles to reassert that we should be listening closely to what we will hear.

If you can't hear what I'm trying to say
If you can't read from the same page
Maybe I'm going deaf,
Maybe I'm going blind
Maybe I'm out of my mind

With our attention suitably directed, our main speaker enters the stage. He immediately questions our ability to hear and understand, then our ability to read and comprehend. In mock indignation he questions his own abilities of comprehension. Perhaps he is "deaf" or "blind" or going out of his mind.

OK now he was close, tried to domesticate you
But you're an animal, baby it's in your nature
Just let me liberate you
Hey, hey, hey
You don't need no papers
Hey, hey, hey
That man is not your maker

Here we are given a clue into the identity of our speaker. He speaks to a woman and argues that her desires of her nature should overwhelm attempts to "domesticate" her. It is at this point that we recognize the speaker as the Serpent from the Garden of Eden addressing us as a metaphorical Eve. He wishes to "liberate" her with the fruit of the forbidden tree. She need sign no contracts, simply eat the fruit. The man, Adam, or perhaps a patriarchal reference to God, is not her "maker".

And that's why I'm gon' take a good girl
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
You're a good girl
Can't let it get past me
You're far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines

The Serpent announces his intentions. He wishes to "take" Eve, the "good girl." He knows that she desires the fruit and he refuses to let her "get past" him. He reminds her that she is flesh and blood, full of desires and "far from plastic." Doesn't Eve, like the Serpent, "hate these blurred lines"? Doesn't Eve wish to know the truth of good and evil? Doesn't she wish to know the mind of God?

I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me

This second half of the chorus highlights the shadow side of the Serpent's temptation. While tempts Eve's desire to know the truth beyond "blurred lines," he also believes that she is full of lustful desires. The Serpent says that she "must wanna get nasty" and beckons her ahead to her doom.

What do they make dreams for
When you got them jeans on
What do we need steam for
You the hottest bitch in this place

The Serpent becomes increasingly cocky as his seduction continues. He appeals to the vanity of this metaphorical Eve. He rhetorically points out her desirability. Not only is she filled with animalistic desires, she spurs these desires as well.

I feel so lucky
Hey, hey, hey
You wanna hug me
Hey, hey, hey
What rhymes with hug me?
Hey, hey, hey

In these words you can sense the Serpent beckoning Eve further and further towards her doom. He begins to reveal his own motivations more and more. He is not merely trying to "liberate" and save Eve from a world of "blurred lines," the Serpent is trying to satisfy his own desires.

OK now he was close, tried to domesticate you
But you're an animal, baby it's in your nature
Just let me liberate you
Hey, hey, hey
You don't need no papers
Hey, hey, hey
That man is not your maker
Hey, hey, hey

Our speaker repeats his earlier lines, but as the narrative deepens these words taken on a darker more sinister tone. Instead of the cajoling playful sense given on first pass, they now feel predatory and verge on mocking. They are no longer words which attempt to seduce, they are words that attempt to suppress. The Serpent knows he has won over his victim, he must merely close the deal.

And that's why I'm gon' take a good girl
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
You're a good girl
Can't let it get past me
You're far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it
I hate them lines
I know you want it
I hate them lines
I know you want it
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me

Once again the Serpent repeats himself from earlier. However, where the earlier version seemed friendly and cajoling, this reiteration of the language is revelatory, basking in the victory of seduction and debauchery. The Serpent has conquered.

One thing I ask of you
Let me be the one you back that ass to
Yo, from Malibu, to Paribu
Yeah, had a bitch, but she ain't bad as you
So hit me up when you passing through
I'll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two
 Swag on, even when you dress casual
I mean it's almost unbearable

The Serpent reveals his true form as a monster and a scoundrel. Where earlier he appealed to the considerations of the woman, her desire to be a "good girl," her desire to be true to her desires and her nature, her desire to live a life beyond "blurred lines," the Serpent now reveals that all of this has been his attempt to conquer her for his own selfish ambitions. Instead of appealing to her, he now points out how he would like her to satisfy him.

Then, honey you're not there when I'm
With my foresight bitch you pay me by
Nothing like your last guy, he too square for you
He don't smack that ass and pull your hair like that
So I just watch and wait for you to salute
But you didn't pick
Not many women can refuse this pimpin'
I'm a nice guy, but don't get it if you get with me

The Serpent continues mocking his victim. He's "nothing like your last guy" for he is abusive and controlling ("wait for you to salute"). He even says that it was never a choice. She "didn't pick" because "not many women can refuse this pimpin'." Even the illusion of control has been ripped away from our victim.

Shake the vibe, get down, get up
Do it like it hurt, like it hurt
What you don't like work?

The Serpent/Satan/The Abusive One continues to mock and belittle our victim. He demands her to "shake the vibe" and mocks her for the pain she has received.

Baby can you breathe? I got this from Jamaica
It always works for me Dakota to Decatur, uh huh
No more pretending
Hey, hey, hey
Cause now you winning
Hey, hey, hey
Here's our beginning

Our speaker makes his final statement. He no longer cares for the welfare of his prey. Mockingly questioning "Baby can you breathe?" There will be "no more pretending" for this is the beginning of his reign of dominance. He has conquered his prey and taken what he wanted. He has manipulated us all to his whims.

I always wanted a good girl
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
You're a good girl
Can't let it get past me
You're far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me

This final refrain summarizes the story and places a cynical and depressive frame around the story. This is not a tale of redemption, but is instead a warning to us all. Though many will appeal to us through our desires and wants, we must be cautious that we are not being manipulated to their abusive whims. Our desires and wants can be healthy, but they can also be the weakness which leads us into a dark and oppressive story.

Everybody get up
Everybody get up
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey  

Our herald returns beckoning us to listen, hear and reflect on the message of this tale.

Peace,
Ben

Ben Howard is an accidental iconoclast and generally curious individual living in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also the editor-in-chief of On Pop Theology and an avid fan of waving at strangers for no reason. You can follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87. 

 

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.

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Bad Music Theology: “I Knew You Were Trouble” by Taylor Swift

She is super serious...and pouty

by Ben Howard

Now we bring you Bad Music Theology, one man’s quest to over interpret bad music in a quixotic attempt to make vaguely mediocre theology.

Once upon a time a few mistakes ago
I was in your sights, you got me alone
You found me, you found me, you found me
I guess you didn't care, and I guess I liked that
And when I fell hard you took a step back
Without me, without me, without me

In the opening lines of the song, Taylor makes an interesting theological turn. She seems to be talking about a crisis in her life that is the result of some sort of sin, but instead of discussing the ideas in terms of individual acts, she personifies the sinful nature which she finds herself battling against.

She represents this personification of failure as a stalking predator, who had her in his “sights” and got her “alone”. Next we see the baiting relationship as the personification entices Taylor with its illicit promises before removing those promises as she takes the bait.

And he's long gone when he's next to me
And I realize the blame is on me

In retrospect Taylor realizes the folly of this course of his action, acknowledging her own culpability in her pain…

'Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
'Til you put me down, oh
I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble 

Just look at the desperate loss in her eyes

Ah, what agony, what ecstasy! The knowing and willful ignorance of a situation you should have avoided in the first place. But oh, who can resist the temptation of metaphorically flying “to places I’d never been” only to find yourself “lying on the cold hard ground” listening to layered Dubstep to simulate the earthquake of emotions you’ve experienced. Was there e’er of tale of such woe? Eh, it is Taylor Swift, it seems apropos.

No apologies, he'll never see you cry
Pretend he doesn't know that he's the reason why
You're drowning, you're drowning, you're drowning
Now I heard you moved on from whispers on the street
A new notch in your belt is all I'll ever be
And now I see, now I see, now I see 

In a quest to restore her lost dignity in the face of her own disappointment, Taylor attempts to hide her pain. She seems lost, lonely. Here we see the plight of the modern church which has overly emphasized the shame one should feel in the face of failure. Instead of sharing her pain with her friends, family and community, Taylor finds herself “drowning” in tears, hiding from the world. She hears rumors, whispers, and watches as she is reduced to a “notch in your belt.” Only now does she truly see, see, see.

He was long gone when he met me
And I realize the joke is on me, yeah! 

It’s not a joke Taylor. Oh no. This is no laughing matter. Yeah!

I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
'Til you put me down, oh
I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble 

With her recognition and anger reaching a fevered pitch, Taylor continues to reflect on how she could have been so taken in by this, this, thing, this personification of wanton desire. Oh how she, “knew you were trouble when you walked in.” She feels shame and she feels troubled. 

And the saddest fear comes creeping in
That you never loved me or her, or anyone, or anything, yeah 

Taylor comes to the profound realization that she is not the ultimate victim in this situation, but that her confused, angry, personification of evil and sin can never feel warmth, can never love anyone. Poor personification. *tear*

Taylor with a jaunty hat

I knew you were trouble when you walked in
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
'Til you put me down, oh
I knew you were trouble when you walked in (you were right there, you were right there)
So shame on me now
Flew me to places I'd never been
Now I'm lying on the cold hard ground
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble
Oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble 

I think this is where Taylor goes off the rails, and the rest of Christian thought as well. Instead of reflecting on the sadness inherent in this personification of evil, Taylor redoubles her own cries of anger, heartbreak, shame and victimization. With the ability to finally uncover new metaphysical understandings of how the world functions in its brokenness, Taylor, like the wider Christian world, succumbs to the shallow desire to focus on self in the interest of protection.

I knew you were trouble when you walked in
Trouble, trouble, trouble
I knew you were trouble when you walked in
Trouble, trouble, trouble

All nuance is lost as Taylor rides off into the sunset reducing the personification of sin which has given her so many problems to mere “trouble, trouble, trouble”. Ah, if only we were to wrestle with the true implications of this pain and not dismiss it all as trouble.

Peace,

Ben

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