4.Singing 'Bout The City
作詞：Jens Andersson, Martin Karl Axen Persson, Mikael Jepson, Lars
Henrik Ljungberg, Ola Salo, Sylvester David Schlegel
I was born and raised with the cross in my face
And a mind that was set for pity
Not fully grown I was left all alone
That's the time I set my eyes on the city, yeah
Where no cold wind sweep at a willow's weep
And no singing in the treetops puts a child to sleep
Where the ghosts and creeps, sad eyed roam the streets
And the best minds turning tricks for that sad and angry fix
But now I'm through, I'm through
I'm through, I'm through, I'm through
Singing 'bout the city
(Singing 'bout the city, singing 'bout the city)
I was all knocked down as I came to town
I was smug as a bug and pretty
I was led to believe that a little less self-esteem
Was required to survive in the city, yeah
In the high-end streets where the faces meet
Who are daring for a sharing on the toilet seats
But I've had my fill of cheap boudoir thrills
Hallelujah, I am coming, bring the fattened calf and sing
Now I'm through, I'm through
I'm through, I'm through, I'm through
Singing 'bout the city
(Singing 'bout the city, singing 'bout the city)
In the summertime in the dry hot town
Sun is high and ambition is low
When the sewers seethe there's no air to breathe
And when no place feels like home
In the summertime in the countryside
Where the birches and long grass grow
And the small birds sing and the church-bell ring
And the gentle warm winds blow
I guess, I really should have known
There's only one place left to go
This time I'm really coming, coming home
I'm gonna spread my wings, gonna leave everything
Far behind that's unsound and shitty
I'm free at last, it's all in the past
Fooling 'round like a clown in the city, yeah
Where no pine and spruce lend a home to the moose
And no brown bears sleep and no rabbits snooze
In the open wild you get warm and mild
Turning playboys to the plough boys that they are inside
Where the green crops grow and the rivers flow
Where lakes glitter, small birds twitter
Oh, I sure could think of worse
It's the Springsteen curse but this time it's in reverse
Life's a pity in the city hell
What does Bruce know about spruce？
Oh, I'm through, I'm through
I'm through, I'm through, I'm through
I'm through, I'm through, I'm through
Singing 'bout the city, yeah
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