Agamennons Stora Ballad Om Flykten Fran Sitt Hemla

It was in April, in Greece,
The grapes were almost ripe.
I sat in a square
and sang about the flowers that had just bloomed
and I sang about the sun that was about to rise
and spread warmth
among the broken and small.

Then the sun went behind the clouds.
The streets echoed with boot steps.
It was the day when the soldiers arrived
all the flowers withered and died. It became quiet in our square.
There stood black generals...
It became forbidden to sing
for the broken and small.

I had to flee from my country.
I fled from Greece to Sweden.
I walked into a city, it was morning
and someone sat singing in a square
and he sang about the sun that was about to rise
and spread warmth
among the broken and small.

Then the sun went behind the clouds.
A cop came and took him to the slammer.
I got angry and went there
with the guitar on my back in a flowery band
and I sang until all the bars broke.
Then we went out together
and sang songs
for the broken and small.