The way that the guys in Demons of Ruby Mae sing about love, you'd get the strong sense that anyone willing to offer their love to you would be threatening you, not offering anything dear or thrilling. It's as if these poor souls have got the hot, barrel-end of a gun jammed into their lower back and they're being led right into the fires of hell. They're being taken down a dark hallway, expecting the floor to fall away at any moment, or the gloomily striding down a plank whereby, at the end of it, they'll have to plunge to their end. These dark songs make the proposition of love sound downright eerie and it should not be entered into without due diligence, intense scrutiny and a ton of foolhardy fuckall. It's your funeral, but just imagine if it works out the other way -- the way that they tell about in the storybooks and the great comedies. If it all goes that way, you've hit something of a highly improbably jackpot and you deserve a hand.