Paroles et traduction Dubioza kolektiv - Šuti i trpi

Šuti i trpi

Meni je muka od vjecne
Nacionalisticke furke
Da me neko smjesta
U Bosnjake, balije il′ Turke
Zelim biti Hercegovac,
Zelim bit Bosanac
Zasto da u svojoj zemlji
Zivim kao stranac
Ilegalac, vanzemaljac
Dio dubiozne mase
Ne mogu mirnu gledat'
Pljacku drzavne kase
Uzimaju, otimaju
Od najnize kase
Nista ne poduzimas,
Pustas da te gaze
Ne mogu da vjerujem
Da smo masa bez glasa
Bez zvuka, bez basa,
Potlacena klasa
Svakog naseg predsjednika,
Svakog naseg poslanika
Prati glas bivseg
Ili buduceg zatvorenika
Vlada, Parlament,
Svih naroda dom
Zbog vas je nasa zemlja
Vukojebina.com
Necu distrikt
Ne priznajem kantone
Necu petnaeset vlada
Ministre morone
Sve sto sada trebam
Ritam, bas i mic
Pojacaj zvuk,
Digni saku u zrak
Zar da sutim, da gledam,
Da dubim na glavi
Trpim lose vibracije,
Osmijeh lazne demokracije
Mrtav hladan
U drustvu mrtvih glasaca
Sto bez plate
Ipak porez na budale placa
S kamatom tude dugove vraca
Ruka pravde
Sve je kraca i kraca
I svi smo dio reality show-a
Velike sestre I velika braca
Digni saku, digni saku
Digni saku u zrak
U strajk u strajk, svi u strajk
U strajk u strajk,
Svi u strajk

Keep Quiet and Suffer

I'm exhausted by the eternal
Nationalist hype
For someone to place me
Among Bosniaks, Chetniks, or Turks
I wish to be a Herzegovinian,
I wish to be a Bosnian
Why must I live in my own country
As a stranger
An illegal alien, an extraterrestrial
Part of a dubious mass
I can't watch indifferently
The looting of the state treasury
They take, they steal
From the lowest coffers
You do nothing,
You let them trample you
I can't believe
That we are a voiceless mass
Without sound, without bass,
An oppressed class
Every one of our presidents,
Every one of our deputies
Follows the voice of a former
Or future prisoner
Government, Parliament,
Home of all peoples
Because of you, our country is
A shithole
I don't want a district
I don't recognize cantons
I don't want fifteen governments
Moronic ministers
All I need now is
Rhythm, bass, and microphone
Turn up the volume,
Raise your fist in the air
Must I be silent, must I watch,
Must I drown headfirst
I suffer from bad vibes,
The smile of fake democracy
Dead cold
In a society of dead voters
Who, despite being unpaid,
Still pay taxes for fools
Repaying with interest the debts of others
The hand of justice
Is getting shorter and shorter
And we are all part of a reality show
Big sisters and big brothers
Raise your fist, raise your fist
Raise your fist in the air
On strike, on strike, everyone on strike
On strike, on strike,
Everyone on strike