A girl in Havana in a street window
I have never been there as a sailor
And I have never been to the Rio de la Plata
And never danced samba on a beach either
A dream in Crepe de Chine
A tear for some wind
Where the sea lies empty and they ate the ravages of time
A party in a cellar vault where Movitz fills the glasses
And father Bergström dances with a nymph from Mälarstrand
I was never invited there to participate in the ecstasy
And Ulla Winblad didn't know my real name
But the butterfly has wings
To remain dreamlike
In Hagaparken under oaks then Worn by the ravages of time
King Nothing perhaps is its name
King Nothing of perhaps without country
A man I know a little takes a seat at the breakfast table
Then here he is sitting with his wife and children and newspaper in hand
A Miss Lind is dead but the details of the murder
are unknown to me, but Persson ste a little neighbor
About the plaintiff who was
Named as father
The child who was left alone and condemned to the test of time
King Nothing became my name< br/>King Nothing of maybe grew up in the concrete
Where the houses stand like moats between city & country
No mother, father, children - that's how it is cold in
Stairway
But it will be 800 degrees if only the world burned
If C.C. Cowboys won
And the man disappeared
Then the earth would spin desolated doomed to the ravages of time

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