Based on Denmark 1995
There are two types of guys
And I generalise
For you can call me hostile
But I'm only forthright
Those that were in a frat
Calves and biceps, no fat
Sailor in a tanker
Or a well-trained banker
From Måns to Skarsgård
From Måns to Skarsgård
Can't pick my guy, I wanna die
Or am I silly, brother?
The mornings pass without no lover
There aren't any princes gathered
So who am I to choose, then?
Do I keep going with the types?
Next the sweetheart-y guys
Born to be a father
Of "one-of-each" rather
From Måns to Skarsgård
From Måns to Skarsgård
For years stock-still, I'm measuring
And trying to rediscover
The feelings under my hardcover
And why I haven't had one shoulder
I wouldn't mind the type of
Sit and cry out
Cause even the wind blows wrong somehow
The youth that I once had is gone now
So long gone as my fire
See the light there? (No Måns, no Skarsgård)
Or are you still the blind man you were? (No Måns, no Skarsgård)
Your farewell need not be so somber
So let this lyric guide you