silent suburbia walking down a dead Swedish Concrete jungle...
Gristle is there dusk, slow walk...
Watching the Graffitis on the concrete walls it is Humid and cold to the bone...
A silent idle sad lonely tune echoes in a corner of my brain...
It is Cold not only by temperature, it is cold in my soul, it is cold in the Kingdom of Sweden, colder than at the north pole...
Slowly walking down the street with my self and my loneliness in a bitter and cold Country, is it social realism...
My feet takes me step by step, just another step, in spite of what society tells me not to, I have dreams, they are not killed off yet...
I am so strong so weak, I don't fit in here, I love heat, I want to live somewhere warm,
where people smile for real and I can see love and compassion in their eyes...
I just don't fit in here, I have to leave or parish, or even worse become one of the soulless sad Grey people...
In sweden you are no one or they will make you no one...
Don't you want to be free... so free... I want to be me...
Do what you have to do my sweet love, I love me...
