mannefitte

Mitt rævhøl er som ei umettelig fitte
Den lar meg ikke sove
Den lar meg ikke fokusere
Den drar meg ut av senga,
Ut av huset,
Ut på gaten,
Verden rundt.
Til jeg forstår
At min kuk
Heller ikke kommer til å hvile
Og vil befrukte alt
Og føde et nytt folk
Og et nytt språk.

Standard

Spoilt Kid

Look at your eyes
It seems as you’ve known me
All my life.
Lies
Are what you believe in
Despite
The truth
That is attracted
Naturally
To your silky lips.

Cry
For what we have given them
By our love.
For they
Will take it for granted
As also do
I.

Mind
The different backgrounds
We’ve got.
A prince and a pauper
Or, rather, a joker.
Yet, we understand each other
Better than anyone.

Sight
Of your departing
Is nothing more
Than a postcard,
Which can be misinterpreted
As an arrival,
Too.

Die
From the sword
Of the self-righteous
Time.

High
Is the sky
Above us.

Night
Won’t rule
Forever.

Might
Is what I see
In your sadly
Beautiful
Eyes.

Standard