(Borg, Andersson, Dregen)
Hey, baby, you will rot in hell
I´m so god damn sorry, I´m alive & well
And sometimes you don´t know
Who I am when you´re at my show
And I´ve got a feeling this is suicide
But, hey, Mr. Sunshine, I am ready to die
`Cause sometimes I believe
That your opinion is my relief
I saw your face on the TV
Just like Mickey in 3-D
But I know you can´t see me now
Subculture hero
Subculture hero
One dead sucker going down in flames
He didn´t get paid but at leas
Etcetera Whatever
Don't speak.
Words come out your eyes.
You're wet with this nightmare.
Like thorns you hold these secrets to your breast,
your slender fingers closing into fists.
Trace your bruise
like a guilty streak.
Hold the pain.
You're a connoisseur.
You think you have no other gift to give,
but we have so much left to live.
We don't need a lot of money.
We'll be sleeping on the beach,
keeping oceans within reach.
(Whatever private oceans we can conjure up for free.)
I will stumble there with you
and you'll be laughing close with me,
trying not to make a scene
etcetera. Whatever. I guess all I really mean
is we're gonna be alright.
Yeah, we're gonna be alright.
You can close your eyes tonight,
'cause we're gonna be alright.
So come on now,
I can almost see
that place
on a distant shore.
And courage is a weapon we must use
to find some life you can't refuse.
We don't need a lot of money.
We'll be sleeping on the beach,
keeping oceans within reach.
(Whatever private oceans we can conjure up for free.)
I will stumble there with you
and you'll be laughing close with me,
trying not to make a scene
etcetera. Whatever. I guess all I really mean
is we're gonna be alright.
Yeah, we're gonna be alright.
You can close your eyes tonight,
'cause we're gonna be alright.
All that I can see is your eyes.
Close your eyes.
Close your eyes.