From the album Boat Songs
This is a love song that accidentally admits the beloved isn't special. The grand romantic declaration—'you are every girl to me'—gets screamed like a gift, but being every girl means being no one in particular. Everything described is broken or empty, but the narrator treats it all like proof of something beautiful.
Pretty little puddle / In Miami blue / Huge water slide / Into a drained out / Community swimming pool
The song opens with something advertised as beautiful that goes nowhere. A water slide into an empty pool is either a disaster or a metaphor for what this relationship actually is—all buildup, no landing.
Rogan's home for the holidays / The conversations are good / And the dinners are great / If only for being homemade
This shifts to someone else entirely, praising meals only because they're not store-bought. That 'if only' does all the work—it's the same bar the whole song sets for devotion. Good enough because it's not worse.
I bought you a shirt / From the local merch at the airport / Gave it to you and screamed / 'You are every girl to me'
The most romantic moment in the song is a mass-produced airport shirt and a declaration that strips away individuality. He screams it like a confession, but what he's confessing is that she could be anyone.
I believe, I believe
He keeps saying he believes, but never in anything that requires faith. Jackass being funny, the Earth being round—these are facts, not beliefs. The repetition sounds like he's trying to convince himself devotion works the same way.
The narrator thinks he's written a love song, but he's actually cataloged a series of things that don't work while insisting they're proof of devotion. The word 'love' never appears. Instead we get a screamed declaration that the beloved is everyone, which is just another way of saying she's no one he's actually looking at.