Ljóð sem ég samdi í frítíma mínum fyrr í sumar þegar ég var á ferðalagi yfir suður Frakkland. Það kallast Nothing Left og er óður til togsteitu feðga um allan heim. Njótið ;Þ

One time, down in good old South Dakota
I was traveling to Boise, Idaho
had some lemon tree seeds stuffed inside my pockets
oh the road was long, but nights were even longer.

On my way I met a fellow who said he was my father
he showed me pictures he'd look at through out Wyoming nights
but alas the boy he showed me, wasn't me.
after couple of hours I left feeling hopeless

after a fortnight i arrived at Cheyenne city
had two silver dollars and a coat around my arms
oh that faithful coat ever so trusting
our days were soon to be departed.

downtown Cheyenne looks like a bird without it's feathers
the ever so blissful drums from a tamborine
and the hillside on the east and the shore heading westwards
oh the plain sight of the midwest is so dreary

I looked at the map which I stole at a farmers market
I had twenty miles to go, to reach my goal.
Waiting for me was the man who betrayed me
I prayed to God i'd have the strength to do some justice.

The next day I arrived tired but optimistic
I knew exactly the way to the house of treatury
it had been sealed in my heart for a year now, this december.
that was the day my father murdered my only son

Daddy oh, daddy, don't cry…
I still love you and i don't even have to try
but the mist of cold august just keeps on creepin'

The snow had set on the outskirts of Boise
I cried a tear that swiftly melted on the frozen lawn
I stood ten feet away from the house of my father
and in ten minutes time I would finally avenge my son.

I knocked on the door and waited for a few moments
I saw the shadow on the curtain approach the big red door.
was i stupid or smart, just or simply cruel
no time to think, it was do or die

As he open the door i fired two shots straigt.
he stared at my with his hand around his stomach
a small smile appeared on the old man's face
as he hit the ground all covered in blood

I stood over him aiming the gun to his head.
for the first time i had some control
he looked in my eyes but i was shocked
he was actually proud for what i had done.

I went down to kiss him on the forehead.
he uttered with his coarse but defining voice
,,thy son, my time has finally come"
i looked at him, agreed, and shot him between the eyes.

Suddenly i started to cry
my tears were red but why, oh why?
in a blurry vision my father was gone
nothing left, for I had died

My son, my son, what have I done?
my jewl, my crown, my joy of life
did i really end your life?
nothing left, for we had both died.