Tekstforfatter:
Komponist:

She’s living in a cell it’s

Right next to my own

Got records in her

Shelf none of them have

Songs

No ethnic friends?

Oh well she knows

Someone with aids

Coffee in her cup again

It’s the colour beige

Come on

He’s got a hundred

Friends he clings to

Them got one

Hundred calls

In four five

Six or seven day’s

He’s got a goddamn

Mirror in every room

He’s got his Playstation

And some tattoo

I said come on

It’s time to take a look

Around save yourselves

Have kids and you got to

Leave this city