(This, this will change everything.
It is the beginning of a new era, yes.
Then you come home
and find a wife who has got her own house.
And there you had though that you would
live and die like a proletarian.
- What is a proletarian?
No, I hope you mum didn't teach you that.
It is someone who doesn't own anything.)
I feel an increasing feeling
for ripping of my skin,
and turn the shit upside down
in order to not end up as a miserable chap,
bathed in remoulade and french fries,
glitter and glamour of the suburb
mixed with bad sandwiches.
Tired of serving the asses of the rich
with luxury goods
or handing over beefs from the grill
to an angry mob
of dangerous people who apparently
are just as used as me,
with a zero tolerance hidden in the sleeve
and a smell of jerk.
Proletarian, with the same training outfit
as the wife.
Football dad walks through the concrete desert
like a dromedary
home to the dirt cave,
and by the pub with the friends.
Coming in from the cold back to life,
so we forget it,
because the smoke is thick
in the bottom of the lungs
and spreads in the system,
so that we feel that we are hungry.
Wading through the hazes
to the sound of the squawks of the seagulls,
and hoping that it is the last time
that I wear shoes that are worn down to the soles.
But forget it, fuck it,
I'm managing well for now,
because people like us continue searching
in blindness for better times,
driving nice cars,
even though we know we don't have money for it,
because as soon as we have just a little,
the whole world should see it!
It is the same that people are staring (at),
but I have nothing to say, (because)
every time I think people have changed a bit,
there is nothing new,
because it is still the same
where I stand.
It is the same that people are staring (at),
but I have nothing to say, (because)
every time I think people have changed a bit,
there is nothing new,
because it is still the same
where I stand.
Where I come from
it is the closeness that holds the shit together,
brothers that bring shame
and are perceived as the shit in the soil pipe.
Because you fags can't do the same,
and have absolutely nothing to do
with the fucking target group
that we try to focus on.
Yep, I'm from Albertslund, you shit whore.
One of the guys you love to talk shit about,
and who at the same time makes
your daily life crumbling.
The social stratum
that doesn't exist in your world.
The asshole of your offspring,
that you for god's sake never should immitate,
and for the same reason do,
because the shit is so fucking interesting.
Because my life, unlike your shit life,
suddenly seems interesting,
so you can take your happiness and idyll,
and stick it up the ass.
I haven't lost my mind,
I'm just completely honest and fucking furious.
But forget it, fuck it,
I'm managing well for now,
because people like us continue searching
in blindness for better times,
driving nice cars,
even though we know we don't have money for it,
because as soon as we have just a little,
the whole world should see it!
It is the same that people are staring (at),
but I have nothing to say, (because)
every time I think people have changed a bit,
there is nothing new,
because it is still the same
where I stand.
It is the same that people are staring (at),
but I have nothing to say, (because)
every time I think people have changed a bit,
there is nothing new,
because it is still the same
where I stand.