Texti: Valgarur Gujˇnsson
We both got thrilled
for decades on the track
of sharp shots skilled
and turnstiles dressed in black.
Wanna go home.
One for the road.
Won on the road.
Lost back at home.
Fought on the road.
Rots back at home.
Our next stop was for an endless pleasure
the only sound was a different beat.
Burnt my name into another treasure
turning away to face the battlefields.
With all my brains and with all my measures
our old time soulmates and their Motown feet.
I held back lines and then drowned in leisure
burning away all their battered shields.