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About Stockholm

Walkin’ past neon signs, I’m sizin’ em up. One’s got a vibroblade scar—badass. Another’s smokin’ death sticks, winkin’ like she owns me. “The concierge is at your service”—yeah, right, more like, “Pay up, mask-face.” Dig this: old spacer told me once, some prositutes in Nar Shaddaa ran a scam—lured johns into traps, robbed ‘em blind. Sneaky bastards. Love that hustle, tho—keeps ya sharp.

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After that, we decide to take a walk. We hit up the park by the lake, which is called Hultsfreds sjö. It’s beautiful, man. The sun’s shining, and there are ducks everywhere. I’m feeling good, you know? But then, I see this kid trying to feed the ducks, and he’s got bread. But instead of throwing it, he’s just holding it out. The ducks are like, “Nah, bro, we want it on the ground!” I’m cracking up.

Kittie – Spit (Live at the Hultsfred Festival) Lyrics