The name "Trowa Barton" is actually an alias. Trowa has no real name, and when the real Trowa Barton died he was granted the name and the right to pilot the Gundam Heavyarms, one of five similar machines. He has no known family and was raised by a group of mercenaries.
100 Grand
Trowa Barton Lyrics
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Of clueless blues,
Pays the views,
And no-mans news.
Blades will fade from blood to sport,
The heroin's cut these fuses short,
Smokers rode a colonial pig, [Smoke is rolling colonial pink,]
Drink and frame this pain i think.
You bleed your wings and then disappear.
The moving scenes and pilot lights, [...pyre lights]
Smithereens have got 'em scaling heights.
Modern times come talk me down,
And battle lines are drawn across this town.
Parisian boys without your names, [...with obscure names]
Ghetto stones instead of chains,
Talk 'em down cause it's up in flames, [Talk me down...]
And nothing's changed.
Parisian boys without your names, [...with obscure names]
Riot like 1968 again.
The days of rage yeah nothing's changed,
Well pretty flames.
In school I would just bite my tongue,
And now your words they strike me down. [But now your words have struck me dumb.]
The flags are false and they contradict,
They point and click which wounds to lick,
On avenues this christian breeze,
Turns it's heart to more needles please.
Our eyes roll back and we beg for more,
It frays this skin and then underscore.
The case for war you spin and bleed,
The sales you feel screensavers feed,
The girls you breed the soaps that you write,
The graceless charm of your gutter snipes.
The moving scenes and suburbanites,
And smithereens got 'em scaling heights.
Modern times come talk me down,
The battle lines are drawn across this town.
English boys without your names, [...with obscure names]
Ghetto stones instead of chains,
Hearts and minds and US Planes,
Nothing's changed...
And english boys without your names, [...with obscure names]
Riot like the 1980's again,
The days of rage yeah nothing's changed,
More pretty flames.
The song "100 Grand" by Trowa Barton depicts a dystopian world in which the ruling classes and their corrupt systems are causing chaos and destruction. The lyrics highlight the desperation and frustration of the people living in this world as they struggle to survive. The first verse sets the tone for the rest of the song by describing the bleak environment and the cruel realities that people have to face. The use of the word "clueless" in the second line suggests that the people are unaware of what is going on around them, which is why they are easily manipulated.
The next few lines of the song describe the different ways in which people are being affected by the corruption and decay in the world. The blades that fade from blood to sport symbolize the transition from life to death, which has become a form of entertainment for those in power. The heroin and drugs have cut people's fuses short and left them with no hope for the future. The line "smokers rode a colonial pig" refers to the people who have become cigarettes, consumed by the system and ultimately destroyed by it.
The chorus of the song highlights the themes of rebellion and resistance. The Parisian boys and English boys with obscure names represent the common people who are rising up against their oppressors. The rioting and "days of rage" show the people's determination to fight for their rights and freedom. However, the repetition of the line "nothing's changed" suggests that despite their efforts, the world continues to spiral out of control.
Line by Line Meaning
In city shoes,
In urban life,
Of clueless blues,
Feeling lost and hopeless,
Pays the views,
Pays attention to the way things look,
And no-mans news.
And ignores important news that doesn't directly affect them.
Blades will fade from blood to sport,
Violence becomes entertainment,
The heroin's cut these fuses short,
Drug addiction causes self-destructive behavior,
Smokers rode a colonial pig,
The wealthy exploit the poor,
Drink and frame this pain i think.
Try to forget the pain through alcohol and distraction.
I'm melting silver poles my dear,
I'm destroying everything that used to be valuable to me.
You bleed your wings and then disappear.
You hurt yourself and then disappear without a trace.
The moving scenes and pilot lights,
The bright lights of the city and the excitement of change,
Smithereens have got 'em scaling heights.
But it all falls apart, causing people to lose hope.
Modern times come talk me down,
Trying to stay grounded in the midst of chaos,
And battle lines are drawn across this town.
But everyone is fighting against each other instead of working together to solve problems.
Parisian boys without your names,
Young people without a clear sense of identity,
Ghetto stones instead of chains,
They find identity in rebellion and violence.
Talk 'em down cause it's up in flames,
Trying to negotiate a peaceful solution to the conflict.
And nothing's changed.
But ultimately, nothing really changes and the cycle of violence continues.
Riot like 1968 again.
But they still try to fight for change,
The days of rage yeah nothing's changed,
Even though it feels like nothing ever will.
Well pretty flames.
But the spectacle of violence and destruction is almost beautiful in a way.
In school I would just bite my tongue,
In the past, I stayed silent in the face of injustice.
And now your words they strike me down.
But now I feel like I'm being attacked by those same injustices.
The flags are false and they contradict,
The symbols of national pride don't match up with reality.
They point and click which wounds to lick,
The media chooses which issues to focus on, leaving other important problems unaddressed.
On avenues this christian breeze,
Religion is used as a way to justify violence and oppression.
Turns it's heart to more needles please.
People turn to drugs to escape the pain caused by religion and other societal problems.
Our eyes roll back and we beg for more,
We become addicted to the distractions and entertainment that keep us from facing our problems.
It frays this skin and then underscore.
But it only serves to further break down our society and expose its flaws.
The case for war you spin and bleed,
Those in power justify war and violence through propaganda and lies.
The sales you feel screensavers feed,
We are manipulated by advertising and the constant need for consumption.
The girls you breed the soaps that you write,
Even entertainment is tainted by sexism and misogyny.
The graceless charm of your gutter snipes.
The supposed beauty of our society is sullied by the ugliness of its problems.
The moving scenes and suburbanites,
The lifestyle of the wealthy,
And smithereens got 'em scaling heights.
But it's all built on the destruction and exploitation of others.
Modern times come talk me down,
Trying to stay grounded in the midst of chaos,
The battle lines are drawn across this town.
But everyone is fighting against each other instead of working together to solve problems.
English boys without your names,
Young people in England without a clear sense of identity,
Ghetto stones instead of chains,
They find identity in rebellion and violence.
Hearts and minds and US Planes,
But they are not operating in a vacuum, and the actions of foreign powers also play a large role.
Nothing's changed...
But ultimately, nothing really changes and the cycle of violence continues.
And English boys without your names,
But they still try to fight for change,
Riot like the 1980's again,
Even though it feels like nothing ever will.
The days of rage yeah nothing's changed,
But the spectacle of violence and destruction is almost beautiful in a way.
More pretty flames.
But the cycle of destruction and despair continues, and nothing seems to be able to break it.
Contributed by Levi C. Suggest a correction in the comments below.