Jonatan - Desperate Journalist

In the year of our lord

On a bright message board

You’re typing the sound of your seeking

A benign northern soul

And you never announced you were leaving

Jonatan, Jonatan

Jonatan, Jonatan

In your grim faerie nets

The grubbing handsgiver sit

Scandinavian romances of England

And our schoolkiddish laugh

While we sank in the grass

With the weeds from the seas

Jonatan, Jonatan

Jonatan, Jonatan

I never liked your favorite bands

some might say your hand

A loving smile of your earnest plans

And all your sadness frames of sand

With all your sadness frames of sand

More than anyone could stand

More than anyone could stand

More than anyone could stand

Jonatan, Jonatan

Jonatan, Jonatan