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The meaning of the lyrics of the song "Moral of the Story" by the artist "Watsky"

In "Moral of the Story," Watsky uses the metaphor of relentless work, taking it to the extreme: "Work 'til your arms fall off... 'til your muscles are rocks and your bones turn soft." He speaks to the dedication and perseverance required for achieving success.

Watsky likens his creative process to arduous labor, describing his raw fingers and obsessive studio time. He dismisses those who don't share his commitment, calling them "Quiet Coyotes" and urging them to focus on their own pursuits.

Competition permeates the lyrics, as Watsky aims for the top, not settling for anything less ("'til I'm number one, this ain't no top five, end of discussion"). He compares himself to a rottweiler securing its territory, emphasizing his aggression and hunger for success.

Color metaphors ("black and yellow worker bee... black and blue and burgundy... rich mahogany") symbolize hard work and its rewards. Watsky expresses a willingness to overcome any obstacle ("build a bridge... tunnel... eat you and turn your shit to fertilizer"), highlighting his unwavering drive.

Ultimately, "Moral of the Story" is an anthem of dedication and perseverance. Watsky encourages listeners to work tirelessly, believe in themselves, and never give up, no matter the odds.

[Hook:]

And the moral of the story is,

And the moral of the story is:

(Work!) till your arms fall off,

Till your abs get hard and your bone's all soft.

(Just WORK!) till your hands go numb

And they cramp and the fans in the stands go dumb.

[Verse 1:]

I write till my fingers look like a bouquet of roses,

You gotta bring yourself your flowers now in show biz.

Focus, it's Quiet Coyote, come on, let's go, kids,

Everybody get together with a study buddy

And then talk about the fcks that I don't give.

Because it's so big and explosive,

But a lotta people don't live,

They don't ever get a motive,

If you got a goal you gotta hold onto what hope is.

If I didn't have it, I would ask you where the rope is.

Work is my church and so the studio's the closest,

I spit it sick until my cootie flow's the grossest.

Don't be so pissed just be focused on your own shit,

‘Cause we Supercalifornialisticsexyandweknowsit.

You're not my biness.

I go for number one, not a top five, finish.

You can have a chicken pot pie,

But I'm thinking that I'm gonna have another can of Popeye's spinach.

I'm a Rottweiler.

Pop my collar

When I pop my fur.

You're on my nerves.

Mark my words.

Gotta put a leg up and then mark my turf.

[Hook:]

And the moral of the story is,

And the moral of the story is:

(Work!) till your arms fall off,

Till your abs get hard and your bone's all soft.

(Just WORK!) till your hands go numb

And they cramp and the fans in the stands go dumb.

[Verse 2:]

Work until I'm black and yellow black and yellow, worker bee.

I just work until I'm black and blue and burgundy.

Burgundy, work until I earn that rich mahogany.

Honestly, can't you tell I'm working, bitch don't bother me.

Show some modesty, if you're watching me.

A bitch is anybody in my way it's not misogyny.

But if you're blockin' me I will soon defeat you,

I will build a bridge above you,

Or I'll tunnel underneath you,

I will eat you and excrete you and I'll feed you to the flowers,

If I need to I'll go through you and absorb your fcking powers.

I put in hour after hour let's be crystal clear:

I'm gonna get there if it takes a day or fifty years.

I'll fingerbang my fears, I'll fcking punch a dragon,

Even with the Himalayas in my way it's gonna happen.

‘Cause waiting doesn't work, and praying may not come through

And hoping doesn't work. So I will be the one to (work).

[Hook:]

And the moral of the story is,

And the moral of the story is:

(Work!) till your arms fall off,

Till your abs get hard and your bone's all soft.

(Just WORK!) till your hands go numb

And they cramp and the fans in the stands go dumb.

[Outro:]

And maybe someday you might see me in a glossy photo.

No weirdo's rocked the bells as hard as me since Quasimodo.

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