Working days are over
Led to nowhere
Did nothing else but grind us down
Now we’re looking for something
All but nothing
To turn our weariness around

We’re looking for action
Some distraction
“never going back”
No more talk about labor
Good behavior
It’s a [bad word] track

So wind up the sound
As a substitute for love
We dance like we always do, we always do
As a substitute for love
Wind up the sound
As a substitute for love
We drink like we always do, at half past two
As a substitute for love
Hanging out with the shadows
Of the shallows
Heading for Karl Johans torg
There is something within us
That continues
To dry out our thirsty tongues

There under the bridges
By the sea lock
We swill another low class drink
Like panic in motion
Like erosion
We all know this place will sink
 [bad word]