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Introduction
Storm cloud nostalgia
Yebba drops us into a memory that feels both flooded and unfurnished. Everything in the song circles around that tug of war between leaving and lingering. Notice how each section pairs a natural threat (green sky, black butterfly) with the stubborn comforts of a former home. That tension is the point: the past is dangerous but it’s also where the warmth lives.
Verse 1
Apocalypse outside, denial inside
“We flooded the bank / And yellowed our eyes”
The opening hits like a flash flood. Water spills over, vision blurs, and survival turns into a numbers game. The creepy detail of “yellowed” eyes hints at sickness or sleepless nights, setting a bodily cost for hanging on.
“Green in the sky / Sailors warning and a black butterfly”
Green skies mean tornadoes, black butterflies ride superstition. Yebba layers omen after omen while the narrator keeps waiting. You feel the pressure building behind their closed eyelids, as if refusing to look will keep disaster out. The verse ends on exhaustion: “I’ve tried this for so long.” The theme of stubborn attachment is locked in.
Chorus
Empty room, full memory
“Unfurnished, it felt like a home”
The irony stings. Even stripped bare, that space still radiates familiarity. It’s less about couches and more about shared air.
“Seems like we’ve been here before / But I don’t come around anymore”
The déjà vu shows how memory loops. The speaker stays away physically but mentally keeps circling the block. Then the confession: “Think I’m jealous about movin’ on.” That jealousy tells us moving forward is possible, just not yet for them.
Verse 2
Missed calls, missed era
“She ran to the post / I was worried you called”
Running to the mailbox feels quaint, almost cinematic. The worry reveals hope they can’t admit out loud. The next line admits the world has changed: can’t “find anyone the old way anymore / By telephone.” Technology moved on; their heart hasn’t. Even the parenthetical “(In the garden)” feels like a whisper from another time, buried under new growth.
Chorus (reprise)
Clutter proves existence
“Your trophies are still on the floor”
Those trophies should be triumphant but they’re literally ground-level, gathering dust. The speaker clings to physical leftovers because they validate that the relationship existed. They double down: make up a bed on the floor, enjoy it “the way that it was.” Comfort beats progress, even if it means sleeping without a frame.
Outro
Ghost still beckoning
“When you think it’s over / Look over your shoulder”
The song closes like a friend who can’t stop texting after goodbye. The past keeps tapping. “It’s all waiting for you” sounds welcoming and threatening at once. The final promise—“when I come home I’ll remember the way that it was”—cements that nothing truly ended. Memory turns the house key from the other side of the door.
Conclusion
Choosing the haunt
Yellow Eyes isn’t about failure to move on; it’s about choosing not to. Yebba paints nostalgia as a living creature, beautiful and slightly poisonous, lurking in an empty apartment while storms rage outside. The speaker accepts the risk because the alternative is forgetting, and forgetting feels worse than a green sky any day.
