I bought Heaven or Las Vegas in Summer 2003. Cocteau Twins was a breath of fresh air: sweeter than My Bloody Valentine, sublimer than Radiohead, intangible lyrics like all electronica. And my Brazilian friends also loved the album, we played it for three hours per day in the heart of the Atlantic Rain Forest.

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Here, too, have to have been to care for ya,’ only no-one to love, missed his friend,
Pitch the baby should be their murmur, slip me home as we seal us in,
You and that land which one dresh(?) are leaving, hold me onto a mess a plenty,
Me and that land should grow, end to a hard part meant a christmas that’s me and a friend,

Here, too, have to have been to care for ya,’ only no-one to love, missed his friend,
Pitch the baby should be their murmur, slip me home as we seal us in,
You and that land which one dresh(?) are leaving, hold me onto a mess a plenty,
Me and that land should grow, end to a hard part meant a christmas that’s me and a friend,

I only want to love you, I only want to love you
Here, too, have to have been to care for me, I only want to love you

I’m heart, and in space the plane on fill our hearts’ ascension (inside you)
It’s heft driven since the urge to sell the place isn’t very, very, very big

I’m heart, and in space the plane on fill our hearts’ ascension (inside you)
It’s heft driven since the urge to sell the place isn’t very, very, very big

I’m heart, and in space the plane on fill our hearts’ ascension,
(I only want to love you) it’s heft driven since the urge,
to sell the place isn’t very, very, very big...