The TV is on with a fucking hello, now the ladies are flexing about their names One is a liar and the other is a joker who can avoid decency Are you trendy and hip, then you have done the whole clip, then you can suffer a little, keep the mask Are you clumsy and brazen, then you can flee and laugh, spread joy among the living on the trash The same innocent waves, the same angry mosquitos and waves As long as there is shit and public in their pop factory, I'm low I play with attributes, I turn it off and go out, go into the city and swing around in corridors I'm the wild and the scry, come in on a party like a prixis, like a double-maned yearhouse I'm in the cold totally, every glance so faint, then there is warmth here on this glacier I get a cryptic answer from a girl who is looking for a man whose fingers are so nervous that I'm so sad The same cold, freezing waves, the same desperate feelings and waves As long as the dance has a chance to become a big financial loan What kind of fucking elite is flourishing? No, but why am I so low? So I implore But I bite and laugh, take a deep breath and see the same empty actors as on my TV But I'm trying to be me and understand, say something, so I have a shitty fucking letter Mountain mud and latrine, out in trendy hierarchy, I can take it, but all these cold glances Are just misery, and who earns on this, I say, do you see how mom stands and nods The same raving in the evening monologue, the same love on my own accord As long as mom shows up with her party program, I'm low It's a competition and scores and a lot of mosquitoes in hiding and walking around on a dream that is too lie And with artificial answers I stand awake and the pressure remains and live well on constantly losing my appetite Yes, the TV goes on with a fucking hello, but in hell someone is there for your sake Because every time you lose faith, Stenbäck earns a million, hurray, you know that you are worth it The same shitty, swine wave, the same understudied wave As long as the mosquito bite on our undercoat, I'm low There is a fucking lot of shit circulating There is a fucking lot of shit circulating But I crawl home again and pull down my persian, put my head down and put my tail between my legs I'm a loser in a game that has become low and played wrong and return home both frozen and alone And the TV goes on with a fucking hello, both in the jar and in reality And with artificial answers I stand awake and the pressure remains and spread joy all over the planet The same shitty, swine wave, the same understudied wave As long as the mosquito bite on our undercoat, I'm low As long as the dancer has a chance to become a big financier, I'm low As long as the mosquito bite on our undercoat, I'm low As long as Malmö pulls out their party program, I'm low