Lyrics and translation Tomáš Klus - Noe (Live)

Noe (Live)

Už v parku reznou z kyselých dešťů
Průlezky
A plíce těžknou od zplodin.
Svět čeká na potopu, proto je nehezky.
I Noe je furt bez lodi.

Když přišel na úřady žádat o svolení,
By mohl stavbu vykonat,
řekli mu, že už pro něj místo není,
Kde by mohla jeho archa stát.

Poslední parcelu prý prodali Tescu
Za doživotní členství v klubu.
Máš svoji cenu, má generace stesku,
Ve stopách držet krok
A nepouštět hubu na špacír,
Aby snad nemluvila pravdu.
Jsem taky takový,
že tam, kam jde dav,
Jdu, do sebe zavřený,
Spoutaný kořeny, jako že žiju.

Předstírám štěstí, od rána budím dojem,
že netrpím a neprožívám nepokoje,
Do sebe zavřený dělám, jako že žiju.

Už v parku reznou z kyselých dešťů
Průlezky
A plíce těžknou od zplodin.
Svět čeká na potopu, proto je nehezky.
I Noe je furt bez lodi.

Noe však svoje úsilí nevzdal,
Vydal se jednou na horu.
K práci na lodi mu svítila hvězda
A v těle zahříval ho rum.

Postavil archu za pár hodin
A sešel z hor lidi do ní zvát:
Pojďte se zachránit do mé lodi,
Není čas ztrácet čas, ne, nemusíte se bát.

Najednou kolem něj bylo klubko
Uniforem,
Sirény vzduchem zněj - prej - zklidni se
Magore.
Už ho mají, odvezou ho a nechají pod
Práškama tiše spát.

Tak tady v cele spí naděje naše poslední.
Sedm dní bude prý teď špatné počasí.
Jestli se ještě někdy rozední,
Propusťte Noeho z basy.

Postavil archu za pár hodin
A sešel z hor lidi do ní zvát:
Pojďte se zachránit do mé lodi,
Není čas ztrácet čas, ne, nemusíte se bát.

Najednou kolem něj bylo klubko
Uniforem,
Sirény vzduchem zněj - prej - zklidni se
Magore.
Už ho mají, odvezou ho a nechají pod
Práškama tiše spát.

Tak tady v cele spí naděje naše poslední.
Sedm dní bude prý teď špatné počasí.
Jestli se ještě někdy rozední,
Propusťte Noeho z basy.

Už v parku reznou z kyselých dešťů
Průlezky
A plíce těžknou od zplodin.
Svět čeká na potopu, proto je nehezky.

Noah (Live)

Rains in the park from the acid tears are rusting
the swings
and lungs are getting heavy because of the waste.
The world is expecting its flood, therefore it's ugly.
Even Noah is still without a boat.

When he came to the authorities asking for a permit,
so he could build his boat,
they told him there was no place left for him,
where his ark could be.

They had sold the last plot to Tesco
for lifetime membership in the club.
You have got your price, my generation of complaints,
to keep up in its footsteps
and not to speak out
so it wouldn't perchance speak the truth.
I am also like that,
where I see the crowd go,
I go, keeping myself to myself,
bound by my roots, just as if I was living.

I feign happiness, from the morning I build the illusion,
that I am not suffering or going through disquietude,
keeping myself to myself I act as if I was living.

Rains in the park from the acid tears are rusting
the swings
and lungs are getting heavy because of the waste.
The world is expecting its flood, therefore it's ugly.
Even Noah is still without a boat.

But Noah did not give up his efforts,
he went into the mountains one day.
A star shone for him while he worked on his boat
and rum warmed him inside.

He built his ark in a couple of hours
and he went down from the mountains to call the people to it:
Come and rescue yourselves in my boat,
there is no time to waste, no, you don't have to be afraid.

Suddenly there was a ball of
uniforms around him,
the sirens droned through the air - they said - calm down
you madman.
They have got him, they are going to drive him away and leave him under
tablets to sleep quietly.

So here in prison sleeps our last hope.
They say it is going to be bad weather for seven days.
If it is ever going to dawn again,
let Noah out of prison.

He built his ark in a couple of hours
and he went down from the mountains to call the people to it:
Come and rescue yourselves in my boat,
there is no time to waste, no, you don't have to be afraid.

Suddenly there was a ball of
uniforms around him,
the sirens droned through the air - they said - calm down
you madman.
They have got him, they are going to drive him away and leave him under
tablets to sleep quietly.

So here in prison sleeps our last hope.
They say it is going to be bad weather for seven days.
If it is ever going to dawn again,
let Noah out of prison.

Rains in the park from the acid tears are rusting
the swings
and lungs are getting heavy because of the waste.
The world is expecting its flood, therefore it's ugly.