Lately, lately, I find I rush.
Can't piece together the sun in the sky or the spots on my face.
And I must be stuck, my feet already are, I must be lost, my feet already are,
And I must be fast, my feet already are, you'll soon be dust your deeds already are,
You'll soon be dust your deeds already are,
You saw no orb no fiery bushes either,
I must be drunk I feel unsteady,
No monster me, sadly no saint either...
Walk back into Stockholm - Stockholm - our travels take us further north,
Where there's fish in the sea and food on the shelves.
And I must be cold, my feet already are,
You must be old, so take it easier,
And I must be cold, my feet already are,
You must be old, so take it easier...
Walk back into, walk back into, wicked, wicked, wicked...