heya cometh everyboddeeee! right out of the sleigh:
purring like honey from a see-through plastic bag!

& the dread, the dead night-cruise drops its beats
& sings 'la la la la la la laaaaaaa' like a lidl lamb!

hey did i dream all of that? or are we all still here,
shouting 'ship to shore' from the top of the stuga?

life is a fritidshus that belongs to someone else -
but iiiii'm still standing here, in the soupy dimma

& that's my dilemma: stay sane, or else go barking
up the trunks of unfamiliar trees; well, i think i know

which way you'll lean, & so i'll engrave our names
on the nearest manhole cover & call it kul, or jul:

coz blekinge's wastes hold yesterday's rain & crawl
like bereaved remainders 

           of midsomma 
                              (& madness