| In the far and cold land of Norway
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| Up there in the rainy Bergen town
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| This is where my family came from
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| This is where my roots have been planted
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| The local church has got a big archive
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| With the names and the stories of the families
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| I went there to meet the local cleric
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| I asked him to help me look for myself
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| I went there to meet the local cleric
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| I asked him to help me look for myself
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| «I am sorry son, but no Nidhugsen family
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| Left for England twenty nine years ago
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| And no Michael Nidhugsen has been baptized here
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| About that many years ago»
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| I feel so confused now
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| It seems my identity has been erased
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| I feel so helpless now
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| In the land I thought it was my own
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| I feel so selfless now
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| Where should I go searching for truth?
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| I feel so confused now
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| It seems my identity has been erased
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| I am walking along the harbour
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| Through the old wooden houses of the Brygge
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| All of sudden, there is again
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| My mysterious persecutor in black
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| I stop and look at him in fright
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| Why did he follow me this far?
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| «You better go looking for yourself
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| Outside the walls of this town»
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| So out I walked, following my instinct
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| Hearing a call with my mind’s ears
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| I reached a wood and there I found
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| The old Fantoft wodden church
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| I stepped inside and I fell on my knees
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| Looking at the altar, a vision had I
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| My spirit is singing
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| My joy is arising
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| The texture of my dress
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| Is made of pure light
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| With all the happy souls
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| Gathered around me
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| All along we’re singing
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| Cheering for his glory |