A kind of Christmas card – Morten Harket


All you folks back home

I’ll never tell you this

You’re not supposed to know

Where your daughter is

There are ways of life

You never understood

It’s right here

Downtown Hollywood

It’s afternoon on Sunset Boulevard

I’ve got a stolen moment trying hard

To write a kind of Christmas card

But I am burning cut again

Tonight there is fever in my veins

Mama, dear

All the love you gave

I guess there’s really nothing,

nothing much to save

See this place,

is as dirty as I feel myself

There are still some riches

At the Roosevelt

That evening prayer, those memories

In my little bedroon, mama, on my knees,

That’s where I’m at –

Down in Los-Angeles

And I am burning out again

And I must rise above the shame

Tonight there is fever in my veins…

Oh, just think of the girl I used to be

You were my age once, mama, Twenty-three

I can still hear some of the songs you used to play

From that summer of love in ’68

Seems it’s turned into a winter of hate

And I am burning out again

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