Paroles et traduction Marcelo - Kostim (Raidov Klaviremake / Bonus Track)

Kostim (Raidov Klaviremake / Bonus Track)

U jednoj ruci radža, a u drugoj Bromazepam, hajd'
Cirni to odjednom i dobićeš svest Marčela. Sjaj,
Svetla bine, jeka aplauza mine -- trezan a mamuran, zinem
Opet u bezdan tmine, gde malo šta diše...
Dragi gosti, bina -- to je kostim.
A ova tmina -- tu su kosti ljudi ranjivih i prostih.
Tvoj heroj sam? Oprosti. Samo veruješ ovoj kori.
Tamo ispod -- ona gori. Tamo zbunjen sam, kao mnogi.
Tamo trudim se da shvatim bol. Mučim se da bih vratio svoj
Um u šine razuma, bro, iz govna na koje vonja dno.
Kak'a je to laž: na bini si skroz car,
Kao da skroz znaš kako-gde-ko-šta.
Publika voljna da primi tvoj dah
Duše i skonta za sebe odgovore
što dižu glavu gore, izlaz iz noćne more,
Samoće -- i to je razlog zašto traže heroje.
A mi? Mi to radimo jer su potrebni i nama,
Jer nam tama kožu drapa... treba nam lek za strah taj.
Nekom od nas se ubio ćale. Nekog od nas ubija ćale.
Neko od nas ne zna šta će. Svako od nas je sjeban najpre,
Posle sve drugo. Sve što smo postali, sve što smo zgazili
Da budemo nađeni, a ne samo snađeni.
Svaki stih, svaki vers, svaka stvar je filter
Na koji nabijam srce da s druge strane sita sine.
Izvini, ni ovu nisam pisao zbog tebe,
Nego da branim dete što se krije iza pesme.
Onog dečaka u sebi, onog Petra Pana iza.
I sve ovo radim samo da njega ne izdam.
Jer, java ga ždere i guta ga tmina.
I treba mu pomoć da ostane divan.
Zato, eto kostima, eto bina i rima,
I svega što radim samo da njega ne izdam.
Izvini.
Tik-tak. Noć. Sat.
Čovek. Sam. Ćošak. Dlan.
Srča. Flaša. Duh. Tajac.
Bes. Tama. Vijuge. Prasak.
Solo. U srči sjebanih, slomljenih stvari
Gađam prazne flaše pikslom -- ugođaj k'o u kuglani.
Zgrčen u ćošku na gajbi. Zgrčen u ćošku u glavi.
Samo bezvučje. Bezrečje. Ti i prazan papir.
A sutra -- na intervju da predstavljaš ideju, stav,
K'o da nisi sinoć bio sav pregažen, umoran
Od svega, očajan... to nikad ne piše u štampi.
Publika želi cert, koga briga da li patiš.
Žele da si avangarda, i ne smeš van garda.
I ne smeš da padaš. Jeb'o brda tvojih sranja.
Na onom stepeništu što vodi na binu balast
Spustiš i ostaviš -- posle ga uzmeš nazad.
Sećam se face ortaka -- par minuta pre lajva,
Neko mu fonom javlja da upravo gubi člana
Porodice, što je već dugo u bolnici... više nema nade,
Doš'o dan D... al' možda još ima šanse
Da ga zatekne živog ako se odmah tamo sjuri...
Imaš izbor. Zajeban. Pitanje sekundi.
"On bi od mene ovo želeo." To je sve što je rekao,
Popeo se na binu i najbolje jebeno ikad pokid'o.
I onda? Ko smo mi? Fejk, malter, čelik?
Da li glumiš publici ili si stvarno tako velik?
Istina je prosta: samo radiš šta moraš.
Sebi trebaš takav. Ovaj kostim je koža.
Izvini, ni ovu nisam pisao zbog tebe,
Nego da branim dete što se krije iza pesme.
Onog dečaka u sebi, onog Petra Pana iza.
I sve ovo radim samo da njega ne izdam.
Jer, java ga ždere i guta ga tmina.
I treba mu pomoć da ostane divan.
Zato, eto kostima, eto bina i rima,
I svega što radim samo da njega ne izdam.
Izvini.

Costume (Raidov Klaviremake / Bonus Track)

Rāja in one hand, Bromazepam in the other, come on
Swallow it all at once and you'll get Marčelo's consciousness. Shine,
Stage lights, the echo of applause explodes -- sober yet hungover, I gape
Again into the abyss of darkness, where little breathes...
Dear guests, the stage -- that's the costume.
And this darkness -- here lie the bones of the vulnerable and simple.
Your hero? I'm sorry. You just believe this shell.
Underneath it -- she burns. There I'm confused, like many.
There I try to understand the pain. I struggle to bring back my
Mind to the rails of reason, bro, from the shit that stinks to the bottom.
What a lie it is: on stage you're a total king,
As if you totally know how-where-who-what.
The audience willing to receive your breath
Of soul and figure out the answers for themselves
That raise their heads up, an escape from the nightmare,
Of loneliness -- and that's why they seek heroes.
And us? We do it because they are needed by us too,
Because the darkness scratches our skin... we need a cure for that fear.
One of us had a father who killed himself. One of us is being killed by his father.
One of us doesn't know what to do. Each of us is fucked up first,
Everything else comes after. Everything we became, everything we crushed
To be found, not just resourceful.
Every verse, every line, every thing is a filter
On which I press my heart so that on the other side the sieve shines.
Sorry, I didn't write this one for you either,
But to defend the child hiding behind the song.
The boy inside me, the Peter Pan behind it all.
And I do all this just to not betray him.
Because, reality devours him and darkness swallows him.
And he needs help to remain wonderful.
So, here's the costume, here's the stage and the rhymes,
And everything I do just to not betray him.
I'm sorry.
Tick-tock. Night. Clock.
Man. Alone. Corner. Palm.
Sipping. Bottle. Spirit. Silence.
Rage. Darkness. Convolutions. Explosion.
Solo. In the heart of fucked up, broken things
I throw pixels at empty bottles -- the atmosphere's like a bowling alley.
Curled up in the corner of the apartment. Curled up in the corner of my mind.
Just silence. Speechlessness. You and a blank paper.
And tomorrow -- to an interview to present an idea, a stance,
As if you weren't completely trampled last night, tired
Of everything, desperate... that never gets written in the press.
The audience wants a show, who cares if you suffer.
They want you to be avant-garde, and you can't let your guard down.
And you can't fall. Fuck your mountains of shit.
On that staircase leading to the stage, the ballast
You put down and leave -- then you take it back.
I remember the faces of my buddies -- a few minutes before the live show,
Someone tells him on the phone that he's losing a member
Of his family, who has been in the hospital for a long time... there's no more hope,
D-day has come... but maybe there's still a chance
To find him alive if he rushes there right away...
You have a choice. A tough one. A matter of seconds.
"He would have wanted this from me." That's all he said,
He got on stage and fucking killed it like never before.
And then? Who are we? Fake, plaster, steel?
Are you acting for the audience or are you really that great?
The truth is simple: you just do what you have to.
You need yourself like that. This costume is skin.
Sorry, I didn't write this one for you either,
But to defend the child hiding behind the song.
The boy inside me, the Peter Pan behind it all.
And I do all this just to not betray him.
Because, reality devours him and darkness swallows him.
And he needs help to remain wonderful.
So, here's the costume, here's the stage and the rhymes,
And everything I do just to not betray him.
I'm sorry.