This is Birdy's version of "Skinny Love," an original of Bon Iver and composed by Justin Vernon. Aside from those eyes that look through you throughout the video, what captured me the most are the lines which became unusually personal as I listened to it a few times. Here are the lyrics:
Come on skinny love just last the year
Pour a little salt we were never here
My my my - my my my - my my my my - my my ...
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer
I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My my my - my my my - my my my my - my my ...
Right in the moment this order's tall
I told you to be patient I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced I told you to be kind
In the morning I'll be with you
But it will be a different kind
I'll be holding all the tickets
And you'll be owning all the fines
Come on skinny love what happened here
Suckle on the hope in lite brassiere
My my my - my my my - my my my - my my ...
Sullen load is full so slow on the split
I told you to be patient I told you to be fine
I told you to be balanced I told you to be kind
Now all your love is wasted then who the hell was I?
Cause now I'm breaking at the britches
And at the end of all your lines
Who will love you? who will fight?
And who will fall, far behind?
Come on skinny love
My my my - my my my - my my my - my my ...
Come on skinny love
My my my - my my my - my my my - my my ...
The lyrics got me insomniac for a while, literally. When you feel like you know it but you just can't explain to yourself or there's no starting point to explain everything, you just can't afford to sleep. If I can remember it right, that was 2 months ago when I started listening to this song. It was pointless at first, but the unfolding of events in my personal life gave me an idea.
The song is talking to me; it was written for me and I didn't realize that until now. It came in a rush that I had to stop working for a while and edit this entry.
Salt and blood/crushed veneer: such compatible images to represent desperation of healing. The repetition of "I told you to be..." rose as an unending regret of what might have been. Your skinny love is weightless, futile, and doomed but you remain steadfast in building it again.
"Come on skinny love..." is a very subjective invitation and can denote different things depending on who's listening. It may be an invitation of walking away or an invitation of getting up or trying again.
What sort of invitation can you hear?
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