I am a Kebab Norsk Muslim.
The one you make fun of with your drunk head on Sunday mornings.
But all I care is my mortgage.
I am a Muslim in Tøyen.
The one you are scared to see at the edge of the narrow street.
While my mind is in Schweigaards gate 17.
It's the address that I learnt before where I will sleep.
It's an address you will never learn.
The address causes me cut my beard.
I am a young Muslim.
The one you never miss to mention the rape discussions in our first date.
Even though my face turns red when I hold your hand in public.