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