I’m gone.
Didn’t make it through
Started full of hope
But my dreams went askew
I kept crying all night long
Was it really bad?
Was my song so wrong?

I screamed I was better, schlager queers!
Better than what we’ve sent in all those years!
I’ve tried my best for you all
But now look at this
You couldn’t stop me fail

I’m done
With the Swedish crowd
Used to like them
And used to be quite proud
‘’Anna Bergendahl, with her latest hit.’’
Now I’m a failure
And the song is shit

Well let me tell you my ‘’friends’’
All songs I sing are pure godsends
(This is my, this is my, this is my whine)
Why the hell didn’t you opt for Eric?
Cause you weren’t paying attention to the song..
But fanta-size-ing ‘bout his dick.  

If you want to win and it all goes wrong.
Don’t you ever dare, to call the singer, a mong.
Don’t you blame my looks, my dress or my guitar.
Don’t you blame the LED or say the stage was too red
That’s just bizarre!

You know this is my whine, Christer
And this is my cue to cry
(This is my, this is my, this is my whine)
Oh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

(choir)

(Cause this is my, this is my, this is my whine, Christer, and the glowsticks were your plan)
(This is my, this is my, this is my whine)
Cause this is my whine, Svante, and I cant be Carola
(This is my, this is my, this is my whine)
Cause this is my whine, ABBA, and I cant be Agnetha
Cause this is my whine, Europe.