Hvað erum við? Hvar erum við? Hvers vegna erum við? Hvers vegna erum við hér? Hvað skapar okkur, skekur okkur, mótar okkur og skilgreinir? Er það fíni bíllinn þinn, flotti maki þinn eða fallegu börnin? Hvert ertu að fara? Hvaðan komstu? Hvernig líður þér í honum/henni?
Singing to the moon,
huggin the earth
emraceing the gloom
what drives me forth?
fucking the skies
yelling at the see
kicking who in front of you lies
is this me?
Nothing sacred nothing pure
nothing to care about
no one that cares
where are you?
filth and fury
joy and love
let me feel your fist
am I alive?
anger, lust and flesh
burning sensations
all need a response
a response from me.
I love you and hate
I make you and you mold me
is this they call fate?
what is it I cant see?
what is it I dont understand
and why dont I understand?
And who are you to say
"you dont understand!"
If it boils down to this
why do I have to understand
anything?
Ef þetta meikaði einhver sens fyrir þér þá eru, minn vinur, því miður búinn að tapa þér
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