Dad said: Listen boy, I like your music,
but I wish that you would write in Norwegian
I said: It's complicated. Dad said: What is?
To create it, or to sell it to Sweden?
I said self-mocking: It could be too shocking
to my only American fan
Dad said: To Hell with him, why do you try to sing
to him and not me, your old man?
I said nothing cause I started coughing,
I was choking on my usual excuses:
It doesn't sound any good,
and I don't sound like I should
and I have really really tried – but the truth is:
Dad had been bugging me for years about it,
now it was all about the father and son stuff
No matter time or age – a boy will always hate
when his good isn't quite good enough
At the end of the day
you just want Dad to say: You're OK
I'm no kid myself and Dad is old as hell.
One year ago he turned eighty.
And it's a family thing:
We just sing when we want to
be a bit tender and stately.
So I took some Sgt. Pepper tunes,
cause even my Daddy digs Beatles
I wrote lyrics in our language
and I sang'em to him and his guests
At the end of the day
I just want Dad to say that I'm
Better than Beatles!
(solo)
At the end of the day
we all want Dad to say: You're OK
By the end of that day
when he does, we can say it ourselves
A-a-a-ah
But dear Dad, now I'm glad
that you said what you said
It was cool, I just had
to find out by myself
Now I know I can play
and write songs either way
It's OK

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS