Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Major Parkinson
Major Parkinson
Performer
Jon Ivar Kollbotn
Jon Ivar Kollbotn
Performer
Lars Christian Bjørknes
Lars Christian Bjørknes
Performer
Andre Lund
Andre Lund
Performer
Eivind Gammersvik
Eivind Gammersvik
Performer
Jens Erik Aasmundseth
Jens Erik Aasmundseth
Performer
Steinar Hjelmbrekke
Steinar Hjelmbrekke
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jon Ivar Kollbotn
Jon Ivar Kollbotn
Songwriter
Lars Christian Bjørknes
Lars Christian Bjørknes
Composer
Andre Lund
Andre Lund
Composer
Eivind Gammersvik
Eivind Gammersvik
Composer
Jens Erik Aasmundseth
Jens Erik Aasmundseth
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Yngve Leidulv Sætre
Yngve Leidulv Sætre
Producer

Lyrics

This is your life, it isn't much Learn to live, learning to touch Pulling the brakes, but still the wheels keep turning around This is your life, and it is mundane Follow the tacks in a maze through the barrens Never to find your way home Circling vultures and flicking lanterns Showed you the way to the square of your mind Moving the hands that you claim as your own, It's inevitable, it's inevitable like time Poor Lizzy McKay, she wasn't the same after the crash According to rumors she had a relapse, or may I say, a nervous breakdown Nothing was real except the old memories of summertime Hobbling barefoot over the pebbles and bubble wrap She was the queen among the powder'd bag-wigs and ruffy-tuffy heads Poor Lizzy McKay, she wasnt the same after the fall With letters from Paris and cabinet card pictures from Montreal Having a ball, lost in the pages of the devouring summertime Lizzy McKay created a garden of figurines and libertines among the statues of clay She can do anything, she can love everyone Doing thes ame routine over and over Sparkling diamond ring, doing the highland fling Pulling the same routine over and over Dancing through repetition Poor mr. Demille, he wasn't the same after the war Lost in delirium, he was Napoleons troubadour at Borodino Always too feeble, always too quail for the kettledrum Down at the floodgate he was a priest with a timber boom He thought a spike broom was a gunstock of hay He can do anything, he can fight anyone, Doing the same routine over and over Cold as a diamond ring, covered in gabardine Marching through time, he gets older and older We can do anything, we can change everyone, Pulling the same routine over and over Writing a symphony of dwelling disharmony, Pulling the plug is just out of the question Dance me through repetition! Spruces and foxgloves in plum colored cascades Wheelbarrows of pinecones and cloudberry cream It's Monday, it's Tuesday, and nothing is happening Squirrels and ducks pushing marbles The conifer forest is yours for the rest of the day There's no way of knowing, the river keeps flowing on and on and on This is your life, it isn't much Learning to live, learning to touch Pulling the brakes, but still the wheels keep turning around This is your life, and it is mundane Follow the tracks in a maze through the barrens Never to find your way home Circling vultures and flickering lanterns Showed you the way to the square of your mind Moving the hands that you claim as your own, It's inevitable, it's inevitable like time She can do anything, he can change anyone, Doing the same routine over and over Bold as a diamond ring, doing the highland fling Marching through time, they get older and older Dancing, dancing, dancing
Writer(s): Lars Christian Bjorknes, Jens Erik Aasmundseth, Andre Lund, Jon Ivar Kollbotn, Eivind Gammersvik, Steinar Hjelmbrekke Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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