Burial by Miike Snow Lyrics Meaning – Unearthing the Emotional Depths of a Modern Lament
Lyrics
Saturdays are all the same
Sympathy is overrated
Like a snapshot when you’ve lost the game
Now it’s all the funeral
I’ve become a serial
Killer of us both
Now it’s all the funeral
I’ve become a serial
Killer of us both
No, I
Don’t want to get thrown in your ocean
Don’t try
You know that we already know it
It’s over
At your own burial
Don’t forget to cry
At your own burial
Licking up my eighty-first birthday
Every day this body goes to waste
Remembering how I would raise an army
When we went back to your place
Now it’s all the funeral
I’ve become a serial
Killer of us both
Now it’s all the funeral
I’ve become a serial
Killer of us both
No, I
Don’t want to get thrown in your ocean
Don’t try
You know that we already know it
It’s over
At your own burial
Don’t forget to cry
At your own burial
At your own burial
Don’t forget to cry
At your own burial
In the diverse landscape of contemporary music, Miike Snow’s ‘Burial’ emerges as a hauntingly introspective piece that warrants a profound analysis. The track, which delves into the psyche with surgical precision, is rich with metaphor and emotional complexity, begging the listener to peel back its layers.
Though maintaining an ostensibly catchy beat characteristic of Miike Snow’s discography, ‘Burial’ juxtaposes its sonic appeal with a lamentable narrative that might easily be overlooked amidst the pulsing rhythm. Here, we endeavor to untangle the poignant threads woven into this song, and reveal the thematic tapestry hidden within.
The Dissection of Sympathy: A Snapshot of Emotional Abandonment
The opening lines of ‘Burial’ spill forth a disheartening truth: ‘Misery is all we know lately / Saturdays are all the same.’ It’s a world-weary confession; a grisly submission to the monotony of languishing pain. The song quickly establishes a landscape where joy is absent, and mere replication of days denotes a defeat of spirit.
‘Sympathy is overrated,’ the protagonist declares, thus rejecting shallow solace in favor of sincere recognition of their plight. This sentiment mirrors a societal disenchantment with insincere gestures of comfort, perhaps pointing to a deeper isolation within communal grief.
A Morbid Waltz: The Serial ‘Killer of Us Both’
As the chorus hits with ‘Now it’s all the funeral / I’ve become a serial / Killer of us both,’ there’s a chilling self-acknowledgment at play. The repeated invocation of ‘funeral’ not only signals an end but cyclically concludes the many little deaths relationships can endure.
The ‘serial killer of us both’ is perhaps Miike Snow’s crowning literary device, encapsulating inner turmoil and self-sabotage. Here’s a character who finds himself complicit in the cyclic demise of both his former self and of the relationship that once provided semblance to his identity.
Trapped in the Ocean’s Embrace: A Dive into the Unknown
Miike Snow’s piercing outcry, ‘Don’t want to get thrown in your ocean,’ speaks to a resistance against being consumed by another person’s emotional maelstrom. There’s a powerful undertone of wanting to avoid loss of autonomy—being engulfed by the vast sea of another’s problems, insecurities, and expectations.
The ocean, a classic metaphor for the subconscious, is both a force of nature and a reservoir of mysteries. In the context of ‘Burial,’ it might symbolize the overwhelming surge of emotions that one desperately tries not to succumb to, exemplifying a struggle for psychological survival amid relational turmoil.
The Hidden Meaning: A Reflection on Time and Mortality
‘Licking up my eighty-first birthday / Every day this body goes to waste.’ These lines pivot the song into a reflective state, contemplating the inexorable march of time and the decay it brings—a universal experience that resonates with an audience confronting their own mortality.
By invoking ‘eighty-first birthday,’ Miike Snow masterfully highlights the ironic banality of aging, where each day grows less significant even as it represents a triumph of survival. The protagonist’s morose introspection about ‘raising an army’ is suggestive of forlorn ambitions now wilted in the face of life’s fading theatre.
Memorable Lines: The Cry at One’s Own Burial
Perhaps the most haunting command throughout ‘Burial’ is the reminder: ‘At your own burial / Don’t forget to cry.’ It is a cruel, twisted obligation to mourn not just the loss of another, but the laying to rest of one’s own former self, dreams, and the relationship extinguished.
This instruction to cry is laden with irony, as the very nature of mourning is usually involuntary—a natural response to loss. By turning it into a direction, the song hints at the performance of grief, suggesting a kind of societal pressure to express sadness in ways that may not always be authentic to the individual’s feelings.
