Текст и перевод песни Andries Bezuidenhout - Last Round Regulars

Last Round Regulars

Dit kan enige stad wees, enige dorp wees
Enige land wees, enige straat wees
Maar dis die einde van die winter, die strate is nat
Modder wat van karre se wiele af spat
Dis net na middernag, die laaste bus staan en wag
Om die last round regulars huis toe te vat

Mompel, mompel as jy nagtelik strompel
Die koudste wintersfront kan jou vannag nie oorrompel
Want jy't whisky as jas, brandy as sambreel
Wat bruis deur jou aarde om die rillings te steel
Die aarde draai, maar dis nie jou kop nie
Die bome dans, maar dis nie die dop nie
Jou gang is seker, jou pas is sterk
Teen die mis en die reën dra jy jou serp

En soos jy daar gaan, sê my, wat is jou naam?
Kan jy my dalk sê wat dra jy met jou saam?
Die gewig van te veel in die lig van te min
Die stomheid van verloor, die stompheid van wen?
Motherless, vuisvoos, ook nou hopeloos
Maar karre ry verby, die maan wat skyn
Jy soek na jou sleutel, jy soek na die sleutel
Van die slot... van jou premiepondok

Dit kan enige stad wees, enige dorp wees
Enige land wees, enige straat wees
Maar dis die einde van die winter, die strate is nat
Modder wat van karre se wiele af spat
Dis net na middernag, die laaste bus staan al en wag
Om die last round regulars huis toe te vat

Last Round Regulars

This could be any city, any town
Could be any country, any street
But it's the end of winter, the streets are wet
With mud splashed off the wheels of cars
It's just after midnight, the last bus is waiting
To take the last round regulars home

Mumble, mumble as you stumble home tonight
The coldest winter front cannot catch you
'Cause you're wearing whiskey for a coat, brandy for a hat
That's bubbling through your belly keeping out the shivers
The world is spinning, but it's not your head
The trees are dancing, but it's not the drugs
Your gait is steady, your steps are firm
You wear the mist and rain like a scarf

And as you walk, tell me, what's your name?
Can you even tell me what you're carrying?
The weight of too much and the lightness of too little
The numbness of losing and the dullness of winning?
Motherless, beaten, now you're also hopeless
But the cars drive past and the moon shines on
And you search for your key, searching for the key
To the lock... of your very own prison

This could be any city, any town
Could be any country, any street
But it's the end of winter, the streets are wet
With mud splashed off the wheels of cars
It's just after midnight, the last bus standing
To take the last round regulars home