Flygtning - Peter Sommer

Godt carmoufleret så ingen kunne se

Hvorfra han kom, hvor han skulle hen

Hvad han havde set

Uimponeret og proppet med savn

Giv det lidt tid, og giv det et navn

Giv det et navn

Her er en flygtning der kysser sit spor

En bortløben dreng, knuser sin mor

Hans arm tatoveret: «melankoli»

Det gjorde ham så ondt, det lod ham så kold

Mindernes vold

Velinstrueret af en hård instruktør

Som kun laver film hvor helten han dør

Hvor helten han dør

Her er en flygtning der kysser sit spor

Her er en flygtning der kysser sit spor

En bortløben dreng, knuser sin mor

Well carmoufled so no one could see

Where he came from, where he was going

What he had seen

Unimpressed and crammed with longing

Give it some time and give it a name

Give it a name

Here is a refugee kissing his trail

A runaway boy, crushing his mother

His arm tattooed: «melancholy»

It hurt him so much, it left him so cold

The violence of memories

Well instructed by a tough instructor

Who only makes movies where the hero he dies

Where the hero he dies

Here is a refugee kissing his trail

Here is a refugee kissing his trail

A runaway boy, crushing his mother