| I have a room at Statt in Hudiksvall
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| I'm kept awake by a Delsbo band playing 'Desolation row'
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| I have stood in the murmur and listened to a man who has lost his family
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| And the job at the company - he promises revenge
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| The princess of this city had returned from Bologna
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| Before I left she said 'I would love to marry you this summer'
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| 'Okay?'
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| And the heavy ice floes drift along Ljusnan's waters
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| In a suburb of life, the night is swallowed and the spirit leaves the bottle
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| We have filled all the rooms to the width but they still echo empty
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| I'm up tonight writing a blues from Sweden
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| It is an early morning and fog hangs between the trees
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| I walk alone through Jesusparken and hear Malmö wake up
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| About 40 years ago, excavators ate through the city
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| And they cast the new beautiful world in cement and oblivion
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| Then when the houses stood shining high, Malmöpampen went
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| With party needle on the fine suit and drowned in the strait
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| Now the light wind pulls in through the invisible crack
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| In a glazed center, man wanders
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| She forgot the address
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| We have filled all the rooms to the width but they still echo empty
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| I'm on stage tonight and singing a blues from Sweden
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| It's crowded and sweaty and loud in the little bar
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| Jenny glues on the web design that was a pop star in '92
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| And a sad journalist plays records from his best time
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| He wants a hug to fall asleep in
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| - she wants to be seen and have coffee
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| And the NK clock spins over the night traffic
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| 'Serve the guy, how's the music?
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| Have you met anyone before? '
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| 'No'
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| Takes a taxi from Söder at twelve past an empty Café Opera
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| Here you are a king or a fucking broom
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| And even your mom knows which
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| We have filled all the rooms to the width but they still echo empty
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| I'm too drunk and happy tonight for a blues from Sweden |