ten-twenty-thirty-forty-fifty-sixty
seventy-eighty-ninety-ONE HUNDRED
every night the neon animals gather on the plate
and go in a herd down to the spaceship
drunk by the sunset and broken
phone booths and the walls around them
shouting slogans about erotica and love
and money presses and the engines of the cars
whizzing inside their brains
oh, citizens, Sweden spins outside
party, party, party
one hundred and twenty-one hundred and thirty-one hundred and forty-
one hundred and fifty
The DJ snorts artificial energy he feels
like JESUS when he was in the most pain,
he sees the stars, he hangs
highest on the cross and looks down
at the angels frolicking around
and outside Sweden spins
PARTY , PARTY
the angels are like unapproachable beings to the boys in the bar,
the boys who never wanted to be like their father
the boys who act as their own
mistress night after night after night after night
now they stand in a precise line and kill their drinks
in time with the music
in the morning they will wake up with no name
and no memory and the floor will be wet beer
and Rock'n roll
and outside spins Sweden
one hundred sixty-one hundred seventy-one hundred ninety-one hundred eighty-
two hundred-two hundred twenty-two hundred thirty
and outside spins Sweden
Sweden Sweden motherland

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