Södermalm

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Filthy Laugh

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There are angels in this town
I have seen them sitting down
In Södermalm they're around
At the keels of the ships
Lining up in the dock
They are all restaurants
In the windows of bars
At the wheels of their cars
The angels are marked
By the wind in their hair
By the way I must stare
And I stare, and I stare

Suffocating in perversion
'Round the piers at Gamla Stan
Where I gaze at Södermalm
I'm a hotel, I'm not here
I'm the residential sea
Around me, around me
Then I cross upon an angel
In my language, they tell me
That they don't live far from me
Södermalm? I reply
But they say: no, in Blithe
There are angels in Blithe?

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