Sitting, burning alive: your heart’s a funeral pyre. Still, your eyes brim, they practically flood with a pleading for light, a monsoon rain of life. Being hot-blooded let you race for days, it let you rocket out of your troubles and scream across the Sahara—just a natural part of the barren landscape. Now you’re home, and collapsed in front of me. The fetal position doesn’t suit you well.

I notice you’re trembling; but that’s because your heart is barely beating. Seems you burn up everything put within you. And I don’t know if it’s stupidity on my part, or if I identify with the naïveté in your Bambi glare, but let’s beblood connected. Let me love you. Let me reach out my hand, open my vein and awash your arteries in a flood of my life.

This song’s in Swedish. But that doesn’t mean emotions don’t traverse transnational borders. Check out the lyrics to this sumptuous song below and let the feelings of that chorus just shower you in their glory.

The oozing blood from me
I squeeze a drop in your hand
You burn up everything you have
You pretend to be someone else

You stand on tiptoe in the stairs
Your jacket drag on the ground
Your newspaper hit on the thigh
You stand o shakes his hand

Michelle .. Michelle ..

What the hell are you babbling about
Every day is one week
Nothing matters
When your eyes are full

You look like bambi
Your piercing gaze may everything
You look down into your bag
You stop and look around

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