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the swedish problem - s.t.i.c.s lyrics

“i refuse to be the ancestor of a coward, so a survivor i am, the right dna i had, the darker the dreams the darker the tan…”

the letter began. i zoomed out of the paper that was in my hand and looked around
the room; there were, maggots slowly eating off of the eyeb*lls of the, not so much remaining of a human being

the swedish problem, you see. for not until like the 5th letter came from the tax office about having to, repay back the bills that were not being paid automatically anymore. meaning, once every in the blue moon they update their software, and would ask you to confirm

this body has been rotting for about, 1 and a half years before anyone even noticed

.they are lonely
there is a fond that gives money to projects that go back into society, the same society that left you and a variety of hardworking people dying for the company, now dying because of no company

when you can’t face your problems you wear a mask. and come to think about it. this letter looked like it had been written with a sloppy, arm. the expensive bottle of happy juice seemed to have worked its charm

it’s such a cold country if only those long working hours with heated discussions could keep one warm. food for thought for hungry minds, who have been forced to fast their whole lives but, could never understand a coworker who needed to fast so he lies

the swedish problem

not understanding how so many can claim that only cash is king when clearly so many great kingdoms were ruled by daughters. who also learned about respect from their fathers. the social worker looked at the body and noticed how the smell of dried feces had carved a circle around the dark blue jeans on the dark wooden floor

alphabetically categorize their names and ponder. if a lot of anne*britt carina, dan*erik, filip and gösta, ever hoped for their granddaughters to come and knock on their door

framed pictures were turned facing the wall, he turned them around. tried to understand this man in the picture’s pain. the prototype picture that came with the frame was still in its frame??

the only constant thing in life is change. yet he couldn’t find a way to change his work. bet he wanted to pray but could never really make it work. the social worker called johan because johan worked for an agency within the swedish society that took care of ceremonies when ceremonies like this were needed
johan used to open his speech by saying “none cared for mr or ms,but as a society, we’ve had our lips stuck together for so long that even a longed*for farewell kiss could be missed,”

i’m talking about a man who even started smoking at the age of 30, just to be able to have a reason to connect with the special type of conversations that were made during smoke breaks

but his fate was destined with no faith, but then again his faith in humanity was that none would leave him to be this alone. how this country can be so cold
that’s when the thought instantly hit my mind

who will bury him? i mean would you attend? would you go to sports events or foster homes in areas far away from your own timezone? will you be happy that you have somebody. the letter continued…

“i only ever had one buddy
and she used to tell me not to worry
there are more fish in the sea, yet
i couldn’t understand how she managed to catfish me”
the social worker finally realized what the dead man’s memoirs were trying to say

he wrote:
“and i don’t know who you are or how you will find this note, but thank you, for finally being someone, that saw me”

the swedish problem

- s t i c s lyrics

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