From the album Straw Hat - Single
This is a song about what happens when you stop performing guilt. The speaker is trying on a version of themselves that refuses to feel bad for anything, testing whether radical honesty and detachment can pass for freedom. It's less a love song than a manifesto about emotional autonomy that might just be self-protection dressed up as principle.
Straw sun hat / In a pair of Sean john boxer briefs / Sipping the sweet taste of relief / Not tortured like we used to be
The straw hat and Sean John briefs are absurdly specific, painting someone barely dressed and maximally relaxed. That relief hits hard because of "like we used to be." This is recovery, not innocence.
I know that you're trying to parry your doubts / That you want to trust me / I know that you're spying on me now / Through the dog camera
The dog camera is such a perfect detail. Not checking your phone or asking questions. Logging into the pet cam to see if you're really alone. That's the exact flavor of distrust that lives in domestic intimacy.
Tax my gig / I pity every asshole now / If you treat people like that / I know that's how you treat yourself
This flips the script on judgment. Cruelty becomes self-loathing projected outward. The pity here is real but it's also a move to stay above it all, to opt out of being hurt by how others act.
It feels good to kill / We did all of this advertently / Yeah, we got all the luck we need / No shame / No fear / No guilt
"It feels good to kill" is the most unsettling line because it never says what's being killed. Old selves, expectations, the need to be liked. "Advertently" means on purpose, which makes the no shame/no fear/no guilt litany sound like a mantra they're practicing, not a state they've arrived at.
This song lands somewhere between radical honesty and emotional numbness. The speaker wants to believe transparency equals righteousness, that doing everything in the open means there's nothing to apologize for. But the dog camera haunts the whole thing. Someone is still watching.