Balkana - Elemental

Moji su vršnjaci vidjeli sve

I podrume i uzbune i mrtve i izbjegle

Naše bi djetinjstvo bilo drukčije

Da nije zeckalo oružje

Ovdje je ratna igra normalna

Mržnja raste brzo poput korova

A neki novi klinci puške nose

I još se time ponose

Nevjerujem nikome, potrošili ste me

Političari rade samo za sebe

Demokracija je tu, a gdje sam ja?

U zemlji bečkih konjušara

Sram me kad vidim da smo zadojeni

Kako ćemo rast' u mržnji odgojeni?

Svako malo prazimo šaržere

Nema te kiše da krv ispere

Djeca rata mrze, mrze

I pucaju u leđa

Hej okreni se brže, brže

Da te upucaju sprijeda — u srce —

S ove strane Balkana

Sreća nije bogom dana

Ovo je zemlja rana

I pustih obećanja

Dvadeset godina i još vas puca

I još vam se puca, još vas pere taj film

A u džep tiho strpaj što stvar’o je narod

Ako narod šuti onda slaže se s tim

Nama nikad neće biti dosta

Nema tog rata nakon kojeg je stvar čista

I neće balkanska pamet u balkansku glavu

Svaka budala misli tu da je u pravu

Svi tu samo smatraju da trebaju bit vlast

Da fotelja daj pravo da i oni mogu krast

Nikad nećemo prerast svoje sitne taštine

Gledat ćemo zapad iz neposredne blizine

A sutra, za sutra baš i ne ostaje

Mi mlađi neka stvaramo nanovo

Nama postaje sve ispočetka

Zasučimo rukave

Snova više nemamo zbog vaše jave

Pjesmom se liječi

Domovina

Budnice ječe

Sa planina

Ja sam budna i mislim

Možda bolji je san

Oni žive bogovski

Ja preživljavam

Sramite se, vi ste sitne duše

Djecu učite mržnji, učite ih da ruše

Mi smo bili sjebani, pa ne moraju i oni

Neka ne bježe iz gradova u koloni

My peers saw it all

And basements and alarms and dead and escaped

Our childhood would have been different

If it weren't for the weapon

Here the war game is normal

Hate grows fast like weeds

And some new kids are carrying rifles

And they are still proud of that

I don't trust anyone, you spent me

Politicians work only for themselves

Democracy is here, and where am I?

In the land of Viennese horsemen

I am ashamed to see that we are breastfed

How will we grow up in hatred?

We empty the cartridges every now and then

There is no rain to wash away the blood

Children of war hate, hate

And they shoot in the back

Hey turn faster, faster

To be shot in the front - in the heart -

From this side of the Balkans

Happiness is not the god of days

This is a land of wounds

And I made promises

Twenty years and still shooting you

And you're still being shot, you're still being washed by that fi lm

And quietly put in your pocket what the people are

If the people are silent then they agree with that

We will never have enough

There is no war after which the matter is clean

And the Balkan mind will not be in the Balkan head

Every fool thinks he's right

Everyone here just thinks they need to be in power

Give the armchair the right to steal too

We will never outgrow our petty vanities

We will look west from close range

And tomorrow, for tomorrow, it doesn't really stay

Let us younger ones create anew

It becomes everything to us from scratch

Let's roll up our sleeves

We have no more dreams because of your wake-up call

He heals with a song

Homeland

Wake up

From the mountains

I am awake and I think

Maybe sleep is better

They live divinely

I survive

Shame on you, you are small souls

You teach children to hate, you teach them to tear down

We were fucked up, so they don’t have to either

Let them not flee the cities in the column