Þetta rifjaðist upp fyrir mér smám saman og með því sem ég mundi gat ég fundið þetta á netinu. Svona var textinn:
It took a lost weekend in a hotel in Amsterdam
and double pneumonia in a single room
and the sickest joke was the price of the medicine
are you laughing at me now may I please laugh along with you.
This morning I woke up from a deep unquiet sleep
with ashtray clothes and miss lonelyheart`s pen,
with which I wrote for you a lovesong in tatoo
upon my palm `twas stolen from me when jesus took my hand.
You see I, I wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.
Drop me and I`ll fall to pieces too easily.
I was a king bee with a head full of attitude,
wore my heart on my sleeve like a stain.
My aim was to taboo you.
Could we meet in the marketplace?
Did I ever? Hey, please did you wound my knees?
You see I, I wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.
Drop me and I`ll fall to pieces.
Yes, it`s too easy and there’s nobody else to blame.
Will I hang my head in a crying shame?
There is nobody else to blame. Nobody else except my sweet self
again. It took a lost weekend in a hotel in Amsterdam.
Twenty four gone years to conclude in tears.
That the sickest joke was the price of the medicine.
Are you laughing at me now?
May I please laugh along?
I was a king bee with a head full of attitude
and ashtray heart on my sleeve, wounded knees,
and my one love song was a tatoo upon my palm.
You wrote upon me when you took my hand.
You see I, I wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.
Drop me and I`ll fall to pieces too easily.
En, smá getraun: Hvaða lag er þetta og með hverjum?
P.S. synti 17 ferðir áðan (425 metrar)!