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                                                                                                                                           En Stakket Frist
                                                                                                                                            Ord & musik: Tom Lundén

                                                                                                    Vil du ha en stakket frist
                                                                                                    et forlorent, forløjet sekund -
                                                                                                    Vil du ha en glad illusion
                                                                                                    når sandheden gør for ondt -
                                                                                                    Alle skriger på kærlighed
                                                                                                    kun smerten er reel -
                                                                                                    Fyld op i glemslens glas
                                                                                                    ellers brænder jeg ihjel

                                                                                                    Læs op af livets bog
                                                                                                    jeg vil drukne mig i snak -
                                                                                                    Og læg dine digte bort
                                                                                                    jeg har lige brændt en stak -
                                                                                                    Flyt dine tomme glas
                                                                                                    og fjern dit dumme grin -
                                                                                                    Hvorfor gi mig øregas
                                                                                                    når jeg ber om brændevin

                                                                                                     Ring efter Karons båd
                                                                                                     glem alt om teori -
                                                                                                     Min venlighed er snart brugt op
                                                                                                     jeg har erklæret krig -
                                                                                                     Hvis du sir du er human
                                                                                                     får du et spark af mig -
                                                                                                     Du er selv en lænkehund
                                                                                                     for dem der kuer dig

                                                                                                     Rul nu gardinet ned
                                                                                                     stæng døren med et bræt -
                                                                                                     Verden er en losseplads
                                                                                                     kun morderne får ret -
                                                                                                     Folk får skåret tungen af
                                                                                                     sprættet maven op på tværs
                                                                                                    Og digterne får laurbær
                                                                                                    for at sætte det på vers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    bifrost

                          en stakket frist