A Promise - Jens Lekman

Immanuel, will your doctors let you be ill?

Or are the new laws quoting quotas they have to fill?

They said you to have to work

So you work and you get worse

And you curse the day you were born

Fill in your date of birth

And sign your name on the application form

Immanuel, every drop of blood tastes like wine

When I speak of blood

I’m speaking of how you always felt like a brother to me

Immanuel, when I speak of wine

I’m speaking of the wine regions outside of Santiago, Chile

Where I will take you when you get better

Immanuel, it’s difficult to stand fast

When it’s not your arm nicely wrapped in a cast

When your a needle in a haystack

And a dead horse on the racetrack

And no one sees you bleeding

When the story is old

And the winter blowing cold in Sweden

Immanuel, every drop of blood tastes like wine

When I speak of blood

I’m speaking of what I would do if anyone hurt you

Immanuel, when I speak of wine

I’m speaking of the wine regions outside of Santiago, Chile

Where I will take you when you get better

And that’s a promise

Immanuel, imagine the cool breeze from the Andes

Immanuel, imagine the full-bodied red wine against your lips

Immanuel, imagine the Chilean women

The most beautiful women in the world