Summer Days
Camper Van Beethoven
Gold Incan summer days
Wildwood breeze
Flowers and decay
We're old tigers
Sleeping in the sun
Dreaming of the hunt
We were hunters once
Wild and free
Before this city life
Wage slavery
Familiar to our gods
Northern in our ways
Grey Stockholm housing blocks
Wet cement
The grimy city clock
Bright plastic seats
On the empty tram
Shuffle off to work
Blank staring at the screen
Key clicks sound
The endless drudgery
Push back the chair
Out into the hall
Exit to the stairs
Laugh and smoke a cigarette
She whispers close
"they haven't tamed us yet"
Watch from the roof
Dirty seagulls fly
100 feet below