- Votes:
 - Composers:
 - Ola Salo
 - Jens Sven-orjan Andersson
 - Martin Karl Axen Persson
 - Mikael Jepson
 - Lars Henrik Ljungberg
 - Sylvester David Olof Schlegel
 
- See also:
 
Ark - Singing 'Bout The City lyrics
I was born and raised with the cross in my face
 And a mind that was set for pity
 Not fully grown I was left all alone
 That's the time I set my eyes on the city
 Where no cold wind sweep and no willow's weep
 And no singing in the treetops puts a child to sleep
 Where the ghosts and creeps
 Sad-eyed roam the streets
 And the best minds turning tricks
 For that sad and angry fix
 But now I'm through, I'm through, I'm through
 I'm through, I'm through singing 'bout the city
 (Singing 'bout the city, singing 'bout the city)
 I was all knocked down as I came to town
 I was smug as a bug and pretty
 I was led to believe that a little less self-esteem
 Was required to survive in the city
 In the high-end streets where the faces meet
 Who are daring for a sharing on the toilet seats
 But I've had my fill of cheap boudoir thrills
 Hallelujah, - I am coming
 Bring the fattened calf and sing
 Now I'm through, I'm through, I'm through
 I'm through, I'm through singing 'bout the city
 (Singing 'bout the city, singing 'bout the city)
 In the summertime in the dry hot town
 Sun is high and ambition is lowArk - Singing 'Bout The City - http://motolyrics.com/ark/singing-bout-the-city-lyrics.html
 When the sewers seethe there's no air to breathe
 And when no place feels like home
 In the summertime in the countryside
 Where the birches and long grass grow
 And the small birds sing and the church-bell ring
 And the gentle warm winds blow
 I guess I really should have known
 There's only one place left to go
 This time I'm really coming home
 I'm gonna spread my wings
 Gonna leave everything
 Far behind that's unsound and shitty
 I'm free at last, it's all in the past
 Fooling round like a clown in the city
 Where no pine and spruce lend a home to the moose
 And no brown bears sleep and no rabbits snooze
 In the open wild you get warm and mild
 Turning playboys to the ploughboys
 That they are inside
 Where the green crops grow and the rivers flow
 Where lakes glitter, small birds twitter
 Oh, I sure could think of worse! 
 It's the Springsteen curse but this time it's in reverse
 Life's a pity in the city Hell, what does Bruce know about spruce?
 Oh, I'm through, I'm through, I'm through
 I'm through, I'm through, I'm through, I'm through
 I'm through... 
 Singing 'bout the city, yeaheah









