Now, I'm not one for picking holes in plots, but surely if the vocalist died in her arms, then how come he's up and about singing about it, for I don't recall the verse going:
I just died in your arms tonight
It must've been something you said
I just died in your arms tonight
But luckily 'Flatliners' was on Film 4 last night
So you knew how to perform an impromtu recusitation
using a couple of irons for defibrillation
and I'm all better now.
But don't say it again and re-kill me, you wankwhore bitch.
So if he did die in her arms, then being deceased preculdes any change of getting lungular action to get the old vocal chords to emit sound... Apart from a settling belch due to body gas release as part of the decomposition process, that is. So he cant warble on about it.
But who is the woman whose voice causes the poor sap to become terminally inactive in her arms? Whas he perhaps mistaken, and it wasn't something she said, but her arms wrapped around his larynx, suffocating him as she suffocates in his lynx musk poured exessively over his body?
Or did she hypnotise him, like some Parasitic Paul McKenna, or Demonic Derren Brown?
"Come into my arms... Look in into my eyes... Not around the eyes you twat... look into my eyes.. right, you're under... DIE! DIE! DIE! 1, 2, 3... and ... you're back in a coffin"?
Surely this babe should be done for murder, or at the very least Manslaughter (Talking of which, how come you never hear of Womanslaughter, or Daughterslaughter, etc? Is it only Mans who accidentally do a death upon docile deadites?)
Or am I missing the subtext here... It is "I just dyed in your arms tonight"? Mayhap the "something she said" was misinterpreted, and so he flayed the skin from her elbows down to create a pair of Ed Gein-esque human Marigolds, so he could imbue his white 'grandad' shirt with a myriad of hippy henna'd colours without staining his sleeves?
Cutting (the limbs off the missus to jazz up a dull plain wardobe) crew, indeed!
They've got some bloody weird ideas, these songwriters!
