But The Answer Is Simple.

The Way I Pictured It, All This Grief Would Be Like A Winter Night When You're Standing Outside. You'll Warm Up Once You Get Used To The Cold. Except After You've Been Out There For Awhile, You Feel The Warmth Draining Out Of You And You Realize The Opposite Is Happening; You're Getting Colder And Colder, As The Body Heat You Brought Outside With You Seeps Out Of Your Skin. Instead Of Getting Used To It, You Get Weaker The Longer You Endure It.

Singing What's In Your Heart? Naming The Things You Love And Loathe? You Can Get Hurt That Way. Hell, You Will Get Hurt That Way. But You'll Get Hurt Trying To Hide Away In All That Silence And Leave Your Life Unsung. There's No Future Without Tears. Are You Really Setting Your Hopes On Not Getting Hurt At All? You Think That's An Option? You Clearly Aren't Listening To Enough Morrissey Songs.

That's The Secret Of 'true Blood' - All The Creatures That Roam Bon Temps Become A Metaphor For Our Insatiable Lusts And Inner Desires. Humans Craving What They Can't Have And Those Secret Appetites Transforming Them Into Beasts, Or Even Killers.

Girls Take Up A Lot Of Room. I Had A Lot Of Room For This One.

But Bringing People Together Is What Music Has Always Done Best.