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Under the roof of the Bristol Hotel
My thoughts are of flying without leaving my bed
I watch my cigarette fall down to the street
On Rosenkrantz and Kristiansgate I'm dead

Oslo is waking, I'm barely breathing
Leaving this town with the neon in my head
Hands in my pockets, lost on the corner
On Rosenkrantz and Kristiansgate I'm dead

There's still some snow on the tops of the mountains
There's still some songs that need to be heard
There is an undertow that I have to swim through
While I'm,
Clinging to the tip of the ice berg
Clinging to the top of the world

I'm walking and wounded, missing in action
Just another hungry mouth that is still to be fed
Seeking some shelter, watching young lovers
On Rosenkrantz and Kristiansgate, I'm dead

There's still a flag that needs to be planted
My final speech is yet to be heard,
The fear of failing still be conquered..
While I'm,
Clinging to the tip of the ice berg
Clinging to the top of the world

Nobody knows me, nobody loves me
Isn't being ignored what we all dread
I'm screaming and shouting, yet still no-one hears me
On Rosenkrantz and Kristiansgate, I'm dead
On Rosenkrantz and Kristiansgate, I'm dead