Oh, how tired I can get,
while traveling through this life.
Seems like I was never meant,
to have a loving wife.

Sometimes I think,
I will never have any fun.
What kind of a father will I be,
if I ever get a son.

I haven't really enjoyed myself,
at all for many years.
I just kind of stopped,
when I quit drinking alcohol and beers.

I lost interest in life,
and all which means to live.
And I fell like I have nothing,
to anyone to give.

I'm not special in anyway,
I'm just the son of a bastard.
He raped my mother,
and that's why I was born.

Doesn't make me feel good,
knowing such a thing.
Doesn't reaaly make me want,
to have fun and sing.

That's just a part of my life,
filled with sorrow and pain.
And that's why I feel like,
I'm living life in vain.

Pétur Hinrik Herbertsson,
29.10 2001

ég veit að vantar að ríma í einni línunni, en fann bara ekkert orð til að ríma við bastard sem fittar inn í það sem ég er að reyna að segja.