Dissect - S13E10 - Dissecting "Count Me Out" by Kendrick Lamar

Episode Date: May 20, 2025

Our dissection of Mr Morale & The Big Steppers resumes with "Count Me Out." As the first track on Act 2, the song is positioned as the first therapy session with Eckhart Tolle, as Kendrick reveals some his most vulnerable thoughts and emotions. Shop ⁠Dissect S13 Merch⁠. Follow Dissect on⁠ Instagram⁠,⁠ Twitter⁠, or⁠ TikTok⁠. Host/Writer/EP: Cole Cuchna Video/Audio Production: Kevin Pooler Additional Production: Justin Sayles Theme Music: Birocratic Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

From the Ringer podcast network, this is Dysect, long-form musical analysis, broken into short digestible episodes. This is episode 10 of our season-long analysis on Kendrick Lamar's Mr. Morale and the Big Stepers. I'm your host, Cole Kushner. Last time on Dysect, we examined the final track of Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers' first act, Purple Hearts. As the center point of the album, we discovered how Purple Hearts is in many ways the heart of the album, as Kendrick positions God and love as the center or source of all life.

Rather than drugs or vices that can only provide short-term relief for a wounded heart, God and love are eternal medicines that have the ability to truly heal. We also heard Ghostface Killer perform a critical feature verse as he plays a purple-hearted veteran of the game who offers Kendrick divine guidance as he prepares to confront his demons and the therapy-guided journey of the album's second half. This sets the literal stage for Act 2 of the Morality play that is Mr. Moral and the Big Stepers. Singer Sam Doe takes the stage once again to set the scene. on this dark road mr duckworth all of these holes make it difficult

session 10 breakthrough reflecting the album's central symbol of a mirror the opening of of disc 2 mirrors the start of disc 1 and just like the intro for disc 1 Sam do's vocal passage is an interpolation of Sam maxi's song called Paradise the opening lyric we may not know which way to go on this dark road, continues the album's focus on the universal human condition. The unknowable, unpredictable quality of life is what makes this road dark. We can't see in front of us because it's impossible to predict future circumstances or how one decision today may affect the conditions of tomorrow. The choices we make are educated guesses at best, as we spin endlessly on a speck of dust floating in an incomprehensibly vast universe, none of us truly knowing anything about anything.

We are like actors taking the stage without a script or rehearsal, improvising the performance of our life in real time every day. The introduction then continues by introducing a new character, spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle, who simply says Mr. Duckworth. As we've tracked all season, Eckhart Tolly's work informs the entire album, but this is the first time we actually hear from him directly. As we'll become clear in a moment, Tolly plays the role of Kendrick's therapist, who addresses him here like they're about to begin their first session. Notably, he does not say, either Kendrick or Lamar, but rather uses Kendrick's lesser-known last name in Duckworth. That's because Kendrick Lamar has become a stage name, a name that is now unavoidably tied to his

image as a public figure. But this album, and especially Disc 2, is a deliberate deconstruction of that image in order to reveal the flawed, imperfect human beneath it. Sam Dew then resumes his acapella singing, All these hoes make it difficult. This of course refers to Kendrick's addiction that's devastated his relationship with Whitney and jeopardized the health of his new family. On Kendrick's dark road of his life, this is his primary obstacle. And in order to overcome his vice, he must confront and heal from the trauma that's causing the addiction, hence him finally going to therapy. Uncoincidentally, directly after mentioning the women Kendrick has cheated with, we hear Whitney's voice directly, saying, Session 10, breakthrough. The direct juxtaposition of Whitney and

the hose is a distillation of the album's central tension. Kendrick's battle between love and lust, God and the devil, ego versus consciousness, morality versus immorality. Notably, this is the last time we'll hear from Whitney on Disc 2 until its conclusion, as she in a sense passes the baton to Eckhart Tolley, who takes over the role of Kendrick's guiding presence. Conceptually, this makes sense. Whitney was the one prodding Kendrick to go to therapy throughout Disc 1. It was a journey just to arrive at this moment, but Whitney can't do the work for him. It's on Kendrick and Kendrick alone to dive deep into himself and confront his trauma and grief. The therapist Tolay's role is to guide Kendrick into himself to create a safe space to explore, articulate, and heal.

Now with Count Me Out being Track 10 on Mr. Morrell, we might assume that Session 10 implies that each song on this album is a therapy session. However, this doesn't entirely track because a song like We Cry Together depicts an actual fight inside a home. And on track 5, Father Time, Kendrick flat out rejects going to therapy. I think the better way to think about the album is that it's informed by Kendrick's therapy experience, an experience that was then used to craft a linear story, including his pre-therapy trepidation and struggle. That's why Kendrick, the author, is able to display the insights learned in therapy on Father Time, despite Kendrick the protagonist rejecting therapy on that very same song. With this in mind, framing the start of Disc 2 as a breakthrough,

formally acknowledges this moment as the breakthrough moment Kendrick finally stops tap dancing around his issues and sees a therapy. Importantly, this is an action that requires the diminishment of the ego. It requires you to admit you have a problem. It requires you to accept the fact that you need help. Before saying a single word, Kendrick simply sitting down with a therapist is a huge accomplishment. That in itself is a legitimate breakthrough. It signals that he's overcome decades of environmental conditioning that instilled in him the belief that therapy is for the weak, that it's the antithesis of stoic masculinity,

that, as he said on Father Time, real N-word need no therapy. Additionally, breakthrough signals to us listeners that Disc 2 is about to go even deeper into Kendrick's individual psychology, something that is immediately clear as we break into Act 2's first song, the subject of our episode today, Count Me Out. One of these lies, I'm gonna make these ride with the wrongs I've done. That's one of you night with a father's son, till then I fight. Rain on me, put the blame on me, got guilt, got hurt, got shame on me, got six magazines that's aimed at me done.

Every magazine was famed to. Count Me Out began as a jam session between producers Dahi and Eli Rise and guitarist Danny McKinney. Dahi then hired a choir to provide vocals on the track, intending to keep the song for his own solo album. He showed the song to Kendrick who loved it. Dahi told Rolling Stone, quote, He started writing to it and he was like, I think I might need this. This is exactly what I need. Just knowing him and his process, it's like, all right, yeah, maybe it's a good thing or a bad thing, but I don't hold on to music. If I trust other artist or what they do creatively, I'll let things go because it's more about the messenger.

There's so many versions of that record. I can think of like 10, no, actually 20, 30 versions of that record that we tried and did and molded. A lot of trials, but the end product I'm really happy with, just because I think the heart of the record is still there. The way it feels, the way it picks up the energy, the message it has is still there. That's the most important thing. You can even do an acoustic version of that song, unquote. This latter, comment that you could do an acoustic version of Count Me Out speaks to its solid harmonic foundation. The song features a beautiful chord progression on guitar, beginning with an ascending A minor

7, B minor 7, before settling into a C major 7. As you listen, notice how the chord sequence climbs, going higher and higher. This ascending sequence is then followed by a two-cord dissension as we move from an E minor 7 down to a D major. So if we take an overall look at the general motion of this chord sequence, we have a rise, a moment of stasis, and a fall. Then the cycle repeats, rise, stasis, fall. Now what's cool about this, at least to my ears, is the way the chord sequence reflects

one of the primary themes of the song, because listen to what Dahi and the choir sing over this progression. The choir sings, I'm tripping and falling, over and over throughout the track. Thematically aligned to the dark road image of the intro, tripping and falling conveys how we're all constantly stumbling in the dark, making mistakes, falling down, and picking ourselves up only to inevitably fall after a period of relative stasis. This is the sequence of our lives, which is reflected in the sequence of chords. The idea of falling is also central to the Count Meout music video, where Kendrick is seen talking to a therapist played by actress Helen Mirren. You texted me at 2 o'clock in the morning. I feel like I'm fallen.

Why do you feel that way? Life. In the video, Kendrick's response of life triggers the song's start, and the ensuing verse on Count Me Out is presented as Kendrick's outpouring of thoughts and emotions during therapy. This, along with Whitney's Session 10 Breakthrough, frames the song as revealing Kendrick's most honest, authentic feelings, as if we are flies on the wall at his first therapy session. One of these lives, I'm going to make these ride with the wrongs I've done. That's one of you night. the father's son till then I fight rain on me put the blame on me got guilt got hurt got shame on me got six magazines that's aimed at me done every magazine was fame to me it's a game to me with a

bare room at sleep i ain't never had a vest with that what's fair when a heart's and a words don't reach what's fair when the money don't take these back it's rare when somebody take your dreams back i care too much kendrick enters the track rapping one of these lives i'm gonna make things right with the wrongs i've done that's when i unite with the father's son till then i fight the illusion to multiple lives joins the handful of references to reincarnation and past lives mentioned throughout Mr. Morrell. The basic idea of reincarnation is that after death, one's consciousness is reborn into a new body to begin another life. In some Eastern traditions, the conditions of these lives are karmic, that is, they are influenced by the good or bad deeds committed in previous lives.

Kendrick alludes to this when he mentions riding his past wrongs, presumably not just in this life, but his past lives as well. In Buddhism, the karmic cycle of reimbled. incarnation or samsara is broken when one achieves nirvana or enlightenment, resolving all carmic debt. Kendrick seems to point to this idea when he says that in one of these lives, he's finally going to undo his wrongs by doing right. It's only then that he'll reunite with the Father and Son, a reference to the Christian Holy Trinity, God the Father, God the Son, and the Holy Spirit. In other words, once Kendrick pays his carmic debt, he will rejoin God in heaven. And until then, he fights. He tries his best to ride his wrongs. It's an interesting blow.

of Eastern and Western beliefs, something that's commonplace in what has been dubbed the New Age spiritual movement. Eckhart Tolle is often labeled as a new age teacher, as he regularly draws from the teachings of figures like Buddha and Jesus, sometimes in the same breath. Kendrick then continues with a torrent of emotion, rapping, rain on me, put the blame on me, got guilt, got hurt, got shame on me. While the actions that caused him to feel hurt, guilt, and shame aren't specified here, they are alluded to in the music video. When he says, rain on me, put the blame on me, we see Whitney holding a mirror up to Kendrick. This continues Whitney being depicted as the one pushing Kendrick to confront himself, to reflect on his actions

and the trauma that influences them. Then, as Kendrick says, got guilt, got hurt, got shame on me. The video cuts to a shot of two women in lingerie inside a dimly lit bedroom. The direct juxtaposition of Whitney and these women clearly alludes to Kendrick's sex addiction, mirroring the juxtaposition of Ho's and Whitney's voice we noted at the song's start. It's this betrayal, that causes the guilt and chain to rain down on him. Next, Kendrick paints a striking image, rapping, Got six magazines aimed at me, done every magazine, what's famed to me. The wordplay here centers around magazines referring to both gun ammunition and media publications.

The danger of actual violence during his youth in Compton has been exchanged for the anxiety of being a leader attempting to end the violence in Compton. Also, specifying six magazines here presents some interesting possibilities. On one hand, it may be subtle wordplay with the list of things that are falling upon Kendrick here. Rain, blame, guilt, hurt, and shame make five. Thus, six magazines continues the count. But more importantly, the number six in the Bible symbolizes imperfection. As we discussed last episode, the number seven is used to symbolize perfection and completion, which Kendrick nodded to when he said, rolling sevens and his chorus praising

God's perfection. God created man on the sixth day, and six is just shy of seven, thus symbolizing the imperfection of man and the sin and weakness that he has. This interpretation slots perfectly into a verse in which Kendrick is admitting his flaws and attempting to write his past wrongs in order to reunite with the father and son in heaven. He then continues, done every magazine, What's Fame to Me, It's a Game to Me, where the bedroom at. Sleep, I ain't never had affairs with that. Having had the full experience of being a celebrity, Kendrick undermines the value of fame. He compares it to a game he's won, but implies the prize.

isn't ultimately worth the emotional and psychological toll it's taken on him. Looking for some rest, Kendrick asks where the bedroom's at, an image that doubles as a reference to the main setting of his sex addiction, the way he copes with his stress and anxiety. He plays with this illusion by saying he's never had an affair with sleep, pointing out the irony of spending so much time in bed or sleeping with other women, yet never getting any sleep because the guilt, shame, and blame that rains down on him due to his actions. He then plays off affair to bridge into the next lines,

What's fair when the hearts and the words don't reach? What's fair when the money don't take things back? It's rare when somebody take your dreams back. In other words, if the genie is already out of the bottle, how do you put it back in? Kendrick can't become unfamous, nor can he erase the history of his infidelity. These are things he must live with now. Ironically, now that he has millions of dollars because of his fame, the solutions to his fame-related problems are the very things money can't buy.

I shut down too, I ain't there too much, I'm a complex soul, they lair me up, then broke me down, and morality's dust, I lack and trust. This time around I trust myself. Please, everybody else but myself. All those fells I was myself. Out done fear, outdone myself. This year you better won yourself. Mads on a baby. Kendrick continues the verse, I care too much, want to share too much, in my head too much. I shut down too. I ain't there too much. It's one of Kendrick's classic portraits of its dichotomous nature. His over-caring and overthinking causes him to disassociate from the very things he cares and thinks about. He expresses himself borribly in his art, but can't do the same in real life. There's a disconnect between how he feels and how he behaves.

He acknowledges these complicated dynamics as he continues, I'm a complex soul. They layered me up, then broke me down, and morality's dust, I lack in trust. There's clever wordplay here as Kendrick uses layer to refer to both the complex layers of his soul he just described, but also the construction of a multi-story building, which he's using as an analogy for his stature as a leader or celebrity. During this moment in the music video, we see Kendrick standing on top of a hill like a stage, performing to an audience looking up at him with their fists in the air, as if he were leading a resistance movement. So clearly, they and they layered me up, then broke me down, refers to the public,

who built him up as a hero only to pick him apart when he made mistakes or said something they didn't agree with. Morality's dust plays off the multi-story building motif, creating an image of a building's collapse in the ensuing cloud of dust. The idiom turned to dust is used to mean the end of something that was once strong or meaningful. Thus, Morality's dust seems to imply that Kendrick's struggle with fame and the weight of being a leader has resulted in the collapse of his moral code, i.e. his sex addiction, his habitual adultery, and abusing his celebrity to get women to sleep with him. And as implied in, I lack in trust, it's also left him distrustful of his own.

of everyone around him, likely because he suspects most people are just looking to exploit him. The verse then continues with a turn, a sudden resolve. As Kendrick wraps, this time around, I trust myself. Please, everybody else but myself. All else fails, I was myself. Outdone fear, outdone myself. This year, you better won yourself. Kendrick vows to live authentically going forward, to prioritize his own health before attempting to heal all of humanity. Similar to one of these lives at the verses start, this time around works to signal a new beginning here at the beginning of disc or act two. This time around, on this half of the album, Kendrick is prioritizing himself, hence disc two being the Mr. Moral side of this mirrored two-sided album. Mass on the babies, mass on the outweb mass in the neighborhood stores you shop, but a mask won't hide who you are inside.

Look around the realities carved in lies, white my ego, dodge my pride. Look myself in the mirror, amity field, ain't seen none scary. I fought like a pit bull terrier, blood I share, could fill up aquariums, tell on my angels carry them. Every emotion been deprived, even my stone points couldn't survive. If I didn't learn to love myself, forgive myself a hundred times, dog. Kendrick continues the verse, masks on the babies, mask on the op, where masks in the neighborhood stores you shop.

Here at Act II's start, Kendrick reestablishes one of the album's central themes in the mask, playing off the theater masks worn by actors and a stage play, as well as the prevalence of masks during the pandemic. pandemic. Masks on the babies alludes to the medical masks worn by small children during the pandemic, but also to the way we train our children from birth to wear society's masks and conceal our authentic selves, our true thoughts, feelings, and motivations. Thus we get the lines, but a mask won't hide who you are inside. Look around the realities carved in lies. It's a concise depiction of a world full of facades, a world as stage, as Shakespeare said, full of mask-wearing actors

performing according to the script of their environment, conditioning, and society. societal expectations. In many ways, the line summarizes the central theme of Disc or Act 1, worldwide stepers, where Kendrick called out the various ways we all perform. We perform stoic masculinity to appear tough. We perform outrage to appear morally superior. We perform through our possessions to appear wealthy, to prove our value to the world. And like we've discussed throughout the season, Kendrick is not exempting himself from performing. He too has been wearing a mask. This leads to the following lines, wipe my ego, dodge my pride. look myself in the mirror.

Directly after referencing the world of mass that consumed Act 1, Kendrick blatantly references the central symbol of Act 2, the mirror. This sets the stage for the Mr. Moral half of the album, where Kendrick unmasked himself and confronts the imperfections beneath. And as we mentioned earlier, this process requires extreme humility. It requires the removal of ego and pride, the biggest masks we all wear in Eckhart-Tolle's view, something we'll talk more about shortly.

When looking in the mirror, Kendrick says, Amityville, I ain't seen nothing scarier. I fought like a pit bull terrier. Blood I shed could fill up aquariums. Here he references the modern folk story the Amityville haunting, which is based on the true crimes of Ronald Defeo Jr., who shot and killed six members of his family in Amityville Long Island. In other words, when Kendrick looked at the mirror, he saw a horror story full of trauma, and he was terrified. He then compares himself to a pit bull, a breed with the reputation for being violent and dangerous. However, not unlike humans, a dog's breed doesn't determine its personality and behavior. Its environment and training do. Pipples are naturally no more aggressive than any other

dog breed. It's just that they've been bred and trained to fight, creating a stereotype. They're also more prone to suffer abuse and neglect from their owners. It's a fitting analogy within the context of Mr. Morrell, an album that examines the root causes of human behavior and takes cues from Eckhart Tolley's teachings about environmental conditioning, something we discussed at length in regards to Kodak Black. After depicting the blood he's shed or the suffering and trauma he's endured, the loved ones that he's lost and the hurt he's caused others, Kendrick says, Tell all my angels, carry him. Pared with the image of bleeding out, this seems like a reference to a kind of death. As angels are said to carry or escort spirits into the afterlife,

an image we also see in the Count Me Out music video. Perhaps it marks the death of his ego, or the death of the image of Kendrick Lamar we once knew. He then ends the verse, every emotion been deprived, even my strong points couldn't survive. If I didn't learn to love myself, forgive myself a hundred times. Kendrick was taught to suppress or deprive his emotions, and the weight of decades' worth of suppression threatened to collapse his entire being. Even his many virtues and talents were not enough to carry the weight of his trauma. In the end, it wasn't his stoic masculine strength that saved him. It was learning to be vulnerable, learning to give himself grace for the mistakes he's made, learning to deem himself worthy of love, specifically love for himself. Closing the verse

for giving himself hundreds of times and the image of angels carrying him pairs well with the verse's opening line about having multiple lives and attempting to write his wrongs. Scored by the choir singing and I'm tripping and falling throughout. It's as if Kendrick is depicting each fall and rise as its own kind of life cycle. You hit a low and you can count yourself out, doubt yourself and give up, or you can forgive yourself for falling. Understand you are more than your mistakes, pick yourself up, and start anew. I love when you count me out. I love when you count me out.

I love when you count me out. Count me out continues with a sudden change to the instrumental texture, as the strum guitar is replaced by a distorted synth playing a baseline. Over this, Kendrick repeats the central refrain. I love when you count me out. To be counted out as traditionally a negative, it means you're being excluded. However, Kendrick flips it to a positive, and a reality carved in lies, in a world full of masks. He's more than happy to relinquish his role as a celebrity, to resign himself from society's expectations,

to exit the stage and focus on himself and his family. Being counted out also means to be considered doomed, having no chance of surviving or winning. Like the Pitbull mentioned in the verse, coming from where he comes from, Kendrick has been an underdog all his life. So there is a chance he's claiming to thrive on being counted out, like a motivated athlete. However, this reading gains to mention when we consider that Kendrick is most likely talking to himself in the mirror, because often your biggest critic is yourself. In this way, I love when you count me out, expresses the duality of self, the insecurity

and the confidence. It's an affirmative mantra for reclaiming your agency when the mirror says you're broken. Finally, beneath the umbrella of Eckhart Tolley's teachings, I love when you count me out can also be interpreted as conveying ego death, literally counting me out. In his lectures, totally often talks about discovering our essence identity by dissolving our egoic identity, the identity that obsesses over me and my life. The only true I am, the essence of who you are, is consciousness. That is the I.

One of the most profoundest lines in the Bible, somebody asks God, who are you? Or what's your name? I am that I am. Because your deepest I am is the I am of the universe. It's not personal. Your deepest identity is the identity of God and of the universe. This is the I. That's the only true I.

So when you confuse the unconsciousness of your past, which was only conditioning, which was a reflection of where humanity is at, at its present evolutionary stage, you were a reflection of the evolving, or the unevolved, as yet unevolved human consciousness. That's all. There is no I in there.

It's not that I did that. If you construct an eye out of human unconsciousness that you represented, That is an ego attempt to manufacture another mind-made identity for yourself, because the ego loves to have a conceptual identity. The ego is conceptual identity in the head. That's me. Maybe you caught it just now,

but Toley essentially states the conceptual structure of Mr. Morale and the big stepers during that monologue, how each individual, i.e. act two Mr. Moral, is merely a reflection, a mirror of the evolving collective human consciousness, i.e. Act 1, worldwide stepers. It's an idea we've been talking through all season, but worth reminding as we have now reached the reflection point, the bridge between worldwide stepers and Mr. Moral, where we will now witness Kendrick work to dissolve his ego, work to count me out. When you count me out, fuck it up, fuck it up, fuck it up, fucking it up. How you going to wear my shorts when the lives run deep?

How are you going to bend your love when the bad don't sleep? Beep beat crash out feelings in the middle of the street. Just before the beat kicks in, Kendrick repeats the phrase Fuck it up and ends with a slight alteration, fucking it up. Well, this could be just a passing ad lib. Within the context of the song's motif of ups and downs, it certainly evokes fucking up one's life over and over. Kendrick then sings,

How you're going to win my trust when the lies run deep. It's a thematic continuation of the previous line, realities carved in lies, as Kendrick continues to express distrust in an imperfect world filled with actors. However, as a reflection of humanity himself, we also know Kendrick is talking about himself while looking in the mirror. How can he trust himself when he's been habitually lying and betraying Whitney, the one he loves the most, the one who supported him before the fame? This continues, how you're going to bend your love when the bad don't sleep? It's not clear to me whether he's saying bad or bed here, and is possible Kendrick's intentionally playing with the similarity.

As it applies to the external world, Kendrick questions love and a menacing world, where evil and temptation are ever present. They don't sleep, don't rest. However, when the line is aimed at himself, it recalls the irony he pointed out in verse one, how he spends so much time in bed but gets no sleep because of the guilt and shame he feels betraying his love for Whitney. He then closes this passage, beep, beep, crash our feelings in the middle of the street. On a personal level, this seems to reflect the blowout fights we heard on We Cry Together. When all that built up guilt, shame, resentment, trauma, fear, and deflection explode into an egoic pain body episode. But We Cry Together is also what the world sounds like. As Kendrick compares the explosive

conflicts happening across the world to car crashes. It's what happens when egos collide. Throughout this passage, Kendrick has continued to highlight the reflective dynamic between the individual and the whole, the human and humanity. Now as Count Me Out continues, Kendrick sings about loneliness during his lowest moments. And as you listen, notice how the instrumental reflects this sentiment. Everything drops out besides the drumbeat and a distant, lonely keyboard in the background. Kendrick's lines are rather direct here. He exposes the emptiness of superficial relationships that are based in

ego and performance. Despite having millions of fans around the world, when shit hits the fan, Kendrick has very few people to truly confide in. That's because the fans, the hoes and bros, only know the performative version of Kendrick Lamar, the image his celebrity creates. They don't know the man behind the mask. He then portrays his existential loneliness with an image of scrolling through phone contacts in the middle of the night. This image at the start of Disc 2 mirrors the start of Disc 1, where on United and Grief, Kendrick said, what am I doing? I'm flipping my time through the Rolodex. He's yearning for real emotional support and genuine connection, but we also know his loneliness is tempting him to solicit a woman for sex

to fill that void. Importantly, Kendrick closes by once again directly citing Act 2's central symbol, rapping, Ain't nobody but the mirror looking for the falloff. The mirror here is a subtle play on the black screen of his cell phone reflecting his image back to himself as he scrolls. If he's recalling himself looking for women to solicit in his loneliness, then this is a subtle play This would literally be him looking for the fall off, seeking the addiction that is destroying his life. But the line also reflects the song's refrain. In your lowest moments, your biggest critic is often yourself. You're the one telling yourself you're falling off.

You're the one counting yourself out. After a repetition of the refrain, Sam Doe sings a brief interlude. It's going to take more than pride to stop me. Call 911, I caught a body. Sun up now and yesterday is fading. Healing's only about a mile away. It's a dualistic image. Catching a body inhaling an ambulance develops the ego death and lives within lives motives of the song. Meanwhile, a new horizon and our ever fading past relates to the beauty, freedom, and hope of a healing journey, which due describes as being just a mile away, just around the corner. It's a beautiful passage,

a sliver of light in the darkness, a guiding star when all is lost. Thus, it's no surprise that Kendrick re-enters the song referencing his guiding light, Whitney. Kendrick raps, let me tell you about the woman I know. That's my baby. I know karma like to follow us strong. Importantly, karma doesn't target Kendrick's money or fame. It's his relationship with Whitney that karma attacks. That's because Whitney is the purest thing in his life and is directly connected to his family. And karma hits you where it hurts the most. Kendrick then continues, I know millionaires that feel alone. Of course, Kendrick is chief among them, experiencing firsthand the limitations of financial

wealth and its inability to immune you from the human condition, generational trauma, and karmic retribution. The next line is intensely potent. Anytime I couldn't find God, I still confide myself through a song. Kendrick admits times of lost faith or a disconnection from God. It's a painful admission knowing how much Kendrick has praised and relied on God throughout his life, something that was expressed on the previous track Purple Hearts. He then praises his art as being a dependable confidant for self-discovery and personal growth.

We see this on display in the Count Me Out music video, where Kendrick's seat at the piano doubles as his seat for his therapy session, implying an intrinsic connection between them, both being vessels through which he articulates and unpacks his thoughts, feelings and experiences. Finally, he closes the passage with yet another shot at the vapid futility of social media, rapping, many find a life in a phone. While it is a jab at the external world, Kendrick did just depict himself scrolling through his phone at his lowest moments. Once again, Kendrick is not immune to his own critiques. The world is but a reflection of the individual and vice versa.

You made me worry. I wanted my best version, but you ignored me. Then change the story. Then change the story. Kendrick continues, You said I'd feel better if I just worked harder without lifting my head up. That left me fed up. This reflects the sentiments of Father Time,

when Kendrick's father neglected to grieve when his mother died. Rather, he buried himself in his work. Mirroring his father, Kendrick tried that too, and suffered the consequences of repressing his feelings. In this reading, Kendrick would be talking to himself in the mirror, blaming his conditioned self for the failed, self-diagnosed solutions to his problems. It's also possible that Kendrick is speaking to Western society, which has historically emphasized hard work as a central means for obtaining the American

dream. The admissions continue, you made me worry, I wanted my best version, but you ignored me, then changed the story. This feels like Kendrick continuing his address to society, recalling the sentiments of his previous album, Damn. In the opening track Blood, Kendrick depicts himself attempting to help a blind lady who ends up shooting him, an analogy for his attempts to help America, Lady Justice, who not only ignored his attempts, but actually attacked him for them. These same sentiments are expressed here, as Kendrick speaks on society flipping the narrative of his attempts to create positive change into something negative. This leads to him saying later in the verse, I made a decision, never give you my feelings.

Fuck with you from a distance. This foreshadows a central theme that will be developed throughout Disc 2, where Kendrick makes a conscious decision to restrict the scope of his offering to the world, where he once saw himself striving to be the next Mandela or Martin Luther King Jr., giving the world his everything, he's resigning himself from those ambitions and prioritizing himself and his family, a sentiment that will be articulated further in the next song, Crown. This section then concludes with an incredibly important sequence of lines. Kendrick sings, some put it on the devil when they fall short.

I put it on my ego, Lord of All Lords. Sometimes I fall for her. Aside from literally having Eckhart Tolle's voice appear on the album, this is the most blatant reference to Tolley on Mr. Morrell. As we track throughout Disc 1, the ego is a core principle in Tollay's teachings, something he argues is the root source of all human conflict and suffering. The ego is a sense of self that arises when the mind is completely,

unobserved. The unobserved mind brings about the ego. In fact, the unobserved mind is the ego. These are mental structures, which are energy formations, because every thought is an energy formation, energy formations in your head that say that's me, that's me and my life. And there are certain characteristics to this egoic state. One characteristic is that it exists in a state of frequent dissatisfaction, discontent, and there's an underlying, an undercurrent of something vital is missing in my life. As we discussed earlier, with Kendrick's antagonist, the ego directly named here. on Count Meow, we are primed to experience the therapy-guided journey of Act 2 as the dissolution

of Kendrick's ego. The ego being the antagonist also works perfectly with the symbol of the mirror. The biggest enemy, the Lord of all Lords, is yourself. There's also subtle wordplay in the last phrase, sometimes I fall for her. The female gendering is potent knowing Kendrick's primary vice is women. Also saying, I fall for her, continues the song-long motif of tripping and falling. And given the direct reference to the devil and the Lord in this passage, the fall here may allude to the biblical imagery of fallen angels, angels like Lucifer, who were expelled from heaven after rebelling against the Lord. Kendrick begins a powerful outro in which he personifies regret as a woman. Another subtle allusion to his remorse centered around his sleeping with other women. He speaks to her as if she's an unwelcome guest in his home, asking her to leave.

Of course, the home in question is Kendrick's mind, as he pleads with himself to stop obsessing over every mistake he's ever made. It's a powerful analogy for anyone who struggled with guilt. We beat ourselves up over decisions that can't be undone, compulsively replaying them over and over on our head. We understand it's pointless, but still we dwell uncontrollably in the shame. of our past. The personification of regret as a woman also pairs nicely with Kendrick's personification of morality. Indeed, here at the start of Act 2, the Moral side of the album,

we get the arranged marriage of Mr. Moral and Miss Regrets, Kendrick and his past, the man and his mistakes, a match made in heartache. Miss Regret, I got these deep regrets. Some things I can't forget, Lord knows I drive my best, you said it's not my best, I came about my flesh, I came about my flesh, Some things I must confess. Spoke my truth, paid my debt, can't you see, I'm a wreck, let me lose. I digress. This is me, and I'm blessed.

This is me. And I'm blessed. This is me. And I'm blessed. Anybody fighting through the stress? Anybody fighting through the... Kendrick's emotive tone borders on a desperate plea as he makes a series of plain-spoken confessions. He can't forget his past despite his many efforts.

He admits he's a wreck and feels shackled. by his grief. It's a man at the end of his rope, the dam finally breaking after years of suppression and denial. It's arguably one of the most powerful moments on the album. There's a spiritual undertone to the passage as well. Kendrick says, Lord knows I tried my best, says he came up out of his flesh and that he must confess, all phrases with religious connotations. In the darkness of his uncertainty and loneliness, it's as if Kendrick is calling out to God, asking him what else he needs to do after feeling like he's done so much already. The therapy session has transformed into a religious confessional,

where we might be witnessing one of those moments Kendrick described earlier, where he struggled to find or connect with God. Thus, Kendrick breaks into a spontaneous mantra of sorts, This is me and I'm blessed. He repeats it four times like an affirmation. This is him, the real him. The man with his mask off, looking in the mirror, tortured by his pain, but reminding himself to trust God's blessings upon.

him. Here at his lowest moment, when his faith is tested, this trust is all he has. Powerfully, Kendrick then extends his hand out to the listener, calling out for connection. He asks, Anybody fighting through the stress? The answer to Kendrick's question is obvious. Yes, we're all fighting through the stress in some way or another. And if not now, then sometime in the near future, as suffering is the unavoidable reality of the human condition. The repetition of this phrase, which is the final line of the song, is cut off. Maybe he was going to repeat stress, but there's also a chance he was going to say steps, because what cuts Kendrick off is exactly that.

Dance steps on a theater stage, the sonic motif of the worldwide stepers. Here at the reflective heart between Mr. Morrell and the Big Steppers, Kendrick closes his most personal confession by turning outward, reaching not just for healing but for true human connection. It reaffirms the album's central premise, that humanity is a mirror of the individual, that each of us reflects the other, that this life, this dark road, is a shared experience, one marked by suffering and joy alike. We trip and we fall. Some wounds cut deeper than others, and some of us fall more often than we rise. But when we recognize our fundamental connection, judgment gives way to compassion. We learn not to cast each other aside in our lowest moments.

We learn not to count anyone out, not even ourselves. If you enjoyed today's episode, please leave a comment, share with a friend, or post about Dissect on social media. It all really helps. You can also support the show by purchasing limited season 13 merchandise at dissectpodcast.com. All right, thanks, everyone. Talk to you next week.