Memory comes when memory's old I am never the first to know Following the stream up North Where do people like us float There is room in my lap For bruises, asses, handclaps I will never disappear For forever, I'll be here Whispering Morning, keep the streets empty for me Morning, keep the streets empty for me I'm laying down, eating snow My fur is hot, my tongue is cold On a bed of spider web I think of how to change myself A lot of hope in a one man tent There's no room for innocence Take me home before the storm Velvet moths will keep us warm Whispering Morning, keep the streets empty for me Uncover our heads and reveal our souls We were hungry before we were born.

Karin Dreijer Andersson