I love you. Let's light ourselves on fire.

I never thought double suicide was romantic. But this song is pretty romantic, don't you think?

What's keeping me up at night?
The streetlight.
What's finally gonna let me sleep all right?
You might.

Which is not at all the kind of extremely fucked-up, twisted relationship that I expected from a song called "I love you. Let's light ourselves on fire." I don't know what I was expecting -- other than something out of Norman Mailer and/or Meiji Era Japan -- but this surprisingly, perhaps misleadingly tender little song was not it. It has very few lyrics for an Alpha Cabra song, so it's all in the sweet, earnest delivery: You might.

The end, like the static electricity and (the electricity-using, one imagines) streetlight, is completely incomprehensible to me. But in this incredibly fascinating way. What was everyone doing? What (or whom) were you waiting for by the mailbox? What was the mailman doing? How did "I" see them? Why are the neighbours such potential voyeurs?

These questions, like the question of where the titular fire-setting will take place (and when, and how, and why), trouble me. They trouble me so much that every time I decide, you know, fuck it, I'll never know, and I might as well stop listening, I just put "I love you. Let's light ourselves on fire." back on again. The song itself has become the song's "you" to me, even though I am not sure who that "you" is.