words. when I grow up.


Et brev. I postkassa. Et brev. 
Ordene flyter i sort blekk over gulnet papir 
og synker inn.

Til: Deg
Fra: Karin


When I grow up, I want to be a forester
Run through the moss on high heels
That´s what I´ll do, throwing out boomerang
Waiting for it to come back to me

When I grow up, I want to live near the sea
Crab claws and bottles of rum
That´s what I´ll have staring at the seashell
Waiting for it to embrace me

I put my soul in what I do
Last night I drew a funny man
with dark eyes and a hanging tongue
It goes way bad, I never liked a sad look
From someone who wants to be loved by you

I´m very good with plants
When my friends are away
they let me keep the soil moist
On the seventh day I rest
for a minute or two
then back on my feet and cry for you oooh oh

Youve got cucumbers on your eyes
Too much time spent on nothing
waiting for a moment to arise
The face in the ceiling and arms too long
I wait for him to catch me

Waiting for you to embrace me

Tekst: Fever Ray / Karin Dreijer Andersson

 

Én kommentar

nora

21.des.2010 kl.22:26

fine anna!

jeg er bare nødt til å spørre deg, hvor har du fått tak i de fantastiske konvoluttene du bruke da du sente brev fra paris?

(jeg elsker fortsatt bildet av deg helt øverst like mye som førte gangen, det ser så utroligvakkert ut hjemme hos deg)

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