Mrtvi... - Đorđe Balašević

Od loših vesti i reklama prognan

Utekoh na, treći program

Gde je, nekim čudom

Tekla poznata burleska

Svi oni gegovi, i lica ista

Slikovnica što se lista setno

Ko na dnu škrinje nađena sveska

Osmeh se zaledi na čas

Gde su sad Laurel i Hardi

I ovaj ljuti zrika i njegov beli psić?

O, svi su mrtvi, odnešeni

Bršljan je davno prekrio stih

Od zla i briga, su rešeni

Al' divna ludost ko oreol još rominja oko njih

Bila je berba, osta fotka od nje

Leto neznano gospodnje

No, uglavnom, ta su burad otkad popijena

Ćale s' kačketom, čuvenim, od tvida

Putunju sa leđa skida

Deda pred vranca spušta otkose sena

U smeđoj senci bresaka

Samo po bluzi poznam majku

I ko da čujem mobu i kikote niz drum

Al' svi su mrtvi i blaženi

Bršljan je davno prekrio stih

Od zlih vremena su spašeni

A trag poštenja i dobrote, ko oreol još rominja oko njih

U godišnjaku škole, važna lica

Šmekera i bubalica

Ali samo jedan moto: Drži se, Planeto

Sanjari, genijalci, šampioni

Žrtvovani ko pioni

Pale su zastave, u četrdes' petoj

Kad god ih sretnem, žale se

Šapuću ko zaverenici

Al' pijan dah je vetar

Što zmaja ne diže

Ma, već su mrtvi, a hodaju

Ja nisam rođen da čekam smak… Ne

Moj život nije, na prodaju

A kad pleteš, svoj oreol

Za to i nema boljeg mesta, nego mrak

From bad news and advertising banished

I ran on, third program

Where it is, by some miracle

The famous burlesque flowed

All those gags, and faces the same

A picture book that is listed sadly

Like a notebook found at the bottom of the chest

The smile freezes in time

Where are Laurel and Hardy now?

And this angry cricket and his white puppy?

Oh, they're all dead, taken away

Ivy covered the verse a long time ago

From evil and worries, they are solved

But wonderful madness like a halo still roams around them

It was a vintage, a photo of her remained

Year unknown gentlemen

But mostly, those barrels have been drunk ever since

Dad with a tweed cap, famous

He takes the road off his back

Grandpa drops hay in front of the crow

In the brown shade of peaches

I only know my mother by her blouse

And who can hear mobs and giggles across the road

But all are dead and blessed

Ivy covered the verse a long time ago

They have been saved from evil times

And a trace of honesty and kindness, like a halo still roaming around them

In the school yearbook, important people

Smakera and bug

But only one motto: Hold on, Planet

Dreamers, geniuses, champions

Sacrificed as pawns

The flags fell, at forty-five

Whenever I meet them, they complain

I whisper like conspirators

But a drunken breath is the wind

What a dragon does not rise

Well, they're already dead, and they're walking

I was not born to wait for the end… No.

My life is not, for sale

And when you knit, your halo

There is no better place for that than darkness