I always dislike a fatal finish I never sing about it if I can choose and I abhore the obvious irkish time of the year Iím too jumpy to drink my booze I never like an unbeliever I never trust in confidence I get the creeps from a deceiver reading over my shoulder for intelligence I never liked clipped conversations things should be carrried out whole-heartedly (all the way) a shot in the back is a poor provocation Iíd rather shoot head-on, and quite openly (with no overplay) I hate sweet-talking truthful variations, the itch of doubt, the edge of praise to be sucked up to in all situations and the shattering sound of glass hitting iron raise I also dislike the prim goody-goodies when they enter the scene itís time for a break in the puddle of slander thrive all the backbiters while honour and dignity is at stake I never felt sad for, nor pitied the crippled felt no mercy for people with broken wings donít like powerlessness and canít stand power but thoughts of the crucified Jesus mournfulness brings I abhore myself when I am too yellow to see an innocent bullied I canít endure that they dig in my soul while they bellow and spit on it, I hate for sure but the worst of it all are rings and arenas where talent is sold for a cheap success let everything change for the better I wonít ever like it, nevertheless
© JÝrn Simen ōverli. Translation, ?