It's in my honey.
They make falling in love so easy to do – whether you are showered and blue blazered, or wearing your heart of hearts in your sleeve of sleeves. It is a kind of a fiery passion, so burningly intense and achingly personal, it gently tears down your defenses and unveils a whole new you – one that has you listening to them at least three bloody times a day.
Mr Berninger mentioned that terrible love is the only kind of love, and I am inclined to believe him.
Because three months on, my heart still belongs to them unconditionally: it is constantly beating to their winsome rhythm and brand of freedom; always dancing in line to their elegant moves as mine. Other rivals are being unceremoniously tossed aside, living a life so mercilessly short and divided.
Alarm bells are ringing, but they might as well be singing; and so the warning signs continue to go unheeded, with the elevated levels of devotion and affection hardly dwindled.
Really, there can never be words good enough to describe the album of the year for 2010.