Spread your wings,
just let yourself fly.
Spread your wings,
prepare to die.

Spread your wings
but beware of the cloudy sky.
Spread your wings,
so I can say goodbye.

Everybody get hurt sometime,
but not always the same way.
I guess,
my forgiveness depends on the intentions behind the hurt.

Det lyser en stjerne
på himmelen et sted,
som lyser for deg,
hver gang den titter ned.

Er det ikke forundelig,
hvor vakkert alt er?
Å føle seg elsket,
jeg vil bare være her.

Knug min hånd,
kyss mitt skinn.
Gi meg en lovnad,
så skal jeg alltid være din.

Gå mot øyeblikket,
grip fatt om drømmen.
Smil mot verden,
våg å gå mot strømmen.

Så løfter jeg meg opp,
helt opp av stolen.
Det er en mektig følelse
å leve under solen.

(2009)

Beautiful,
stuck in our throats.
Chasing us everywhere we go.
Hunts us.
Stuck on us,
like glue.
Like a cockroach,
everlasting,
almost.

We try to escape,
away from the horrifying beautiful.
A concept,
made for harassment.
Like a shadow.
Used in wrong terms.
Has set a standard for our poor souls,
desperately the unsureness fill our veins.
Poisoning the lost souls of tomorrow.

A lovely word,
used wrong.
The sense of true beauty never reaches the screen.
Hidden from the outside world,
while we try to embrace the false dignity.
The false mentality sets a double standard,
laughs at us right in the face.
Thinking we’re smart,
being dumb.

It can’t be characterised,
or set in motion.
There’s no description,
no recipe.
Only man-made.
A fantasy.
A dream that never comes true.
Only one correct answer;
the beauty is within,
deeper,
it reaches beneath the eye,
it casts only a glimpse in the mirror of our souls.

Don’t be beguiled by that smooth tongue.
Lips which dare not to say those unspoken words.
Where human beings are for trade.
Never say die.

I shall never forget my words,
never.
I need, and shall not worry.
I never worry about small details.

It is the end,
isn’t it?
What’s been expected,
but never wanted.