Текст и перевод песни Scriptor - Reminiscencije

Reminiscencije

Nekad sam se sjećao ne sjećam se čega
Preobrazba ko Gregor Samsa al nemoj da nebo sazna
Mrtav dah, na zahrdjaloj žlici kuham prah
Slušam Bacha, doza hrabrosti, iznutra kuca strah
Budim se iz sna u kojem varam ženu
Stvaram njenu mrtvu sliku, piknem, igla para venu
Venem... Savjest se mrvi u mrlje kapljice krvi
Takav život stvara tožu dok igla razara kožu
Mješam koktel krvi i heroina, gledam
Smješan portret susjede i njenog sina
Kojih više nema, gledam kroz prozor, a vani sjeva
I još uvijek mi njen jezivi glas u glavi pjeva ide

Ne znam gdje sam, nesanica me uspavljuje
Odavno je svjetlost robinja pregorjele žarulje
Oronuli krevet i devet istrošenih šprica
Na zidu slike prijatelja pokošenih lica
Nema robe, a rob sam robe, grob me
Opet zove jer trebam nove doze, a nemam
Sredstava, znam da ova dole već spava
A ima gljiva jer njima staje na kraj boli polumrtvog sina ima
Pedeset godina, a sin joj je trisomičar sa sidom
Silovan od starog pedofilnog homića
Veæ smo dugo susjedi, dolje na prozoru sjedi
A posla nema pa cijeloga dana pjeva nešto

Jučer sam sanjao da se budim iz sna u znoju
I nemam veze s mozgom bude me zvuci odozdo
Mali trisomičar opet gleda stare westerne
Sretan je kad gleda smetene rendžerske kretene
Nemam razloga za razlog razlaganja ovog
Tmurnog života, nemam snage ni mota, divota
Motam krize u apstinencijske rizle
Zagrizem kruh i ispljunem plastiku
Jedini izlaz su mi susjedine gljive tamo dolje
Možde će mi dati koju, ak je dobre volje
Spuštam se stepenicama evo taman tu je
Išla je po njih na tavan i sada kroz vrata čujem samo

Ceremonija, više ne osjećam da je svečana
Prazno more sjećanja i otoci sa svjećama
Gdje grijem žlicu, grijem se na prijemnicu
Za komunu, brijem solo i solo se smijem vicu
O primitivcu koji samo htio jednu gljivu
A sada uživa u susjedinom heroinu
Došao je ni ne sluteći da će mu teći žilama
Sad ga samo čeka izlazak i miran san
Al njih više nema, ni susjede ni sina
Uspavala ih je sinova kaubojska igra
Istoga trenutka kad je počeo glumit Eastwooda
Je krv potekla kao dokaz sumnjivoga prizora
A on je budala posegnuo za revolverom
I otiscima potpisao s doživotnom robijom
Pitaj me za danas jučer odgovaram sutra
Jutros umirem noću, a noću živim jutra
Nekad sam se sjećao ne sjećam se čega
Preobrazba ko Gregor Samsa, znao sam da slijedi kazna
Mrtav dah u smrdljivoj ćeliji gutam strah
Vani sjeva i još uvijek mi njen glas u glavi pjeva

Recollections

I used to remember, I don't remember what
Metamorphosis like Gregor Samsa, but don't let heaven know
Dead breath, on a rusty spoon I cook dust
I listen to Bach, a dose of courage, fear beats from within
I wake up from a dream where I cheat on you
I create your dead image, I prick, the needle pierces the vein
I wither... Conscience crumbles into spots of blood drops
Such a life creates a lawsuit while the needle destroys the skin
I mix a cocktail of blood and heroin, I look
At the funny portrait of the neighbor and her son
Who are no more, I look through the window, and lightning flashes outside
And her creepy voice still sings in my head

I don't know where I am, insomnia puts me to sleep
The light of a burnt-out bulb has long been a slave
A worn-out bed and nine worn-out syringes
On the wall, pictures of friends with mown faces
There are no clothes, and I am a slave to clothes, the grave
Calls me again because I need new doses, and I don't have any
Means, I know that one down there is already asleep
And there are mushrooms because they stop the pain of her half-dead son
Fifty years old, and her son is a trisomic with AIDS
Raped by an old pedophile homo
We've been neighbors for a long time, she sits down by the window
And there's no work, so she sings something all day

Yesterday I dreamed I was waking up from a dream in sweat
And I have nothing to do with my brain, the sounds from below wake me up
Little trisomic is watching old westerns again
He's happy watching confused ranger morons
I have no reason for the reason for the decomposition of this
Gloomy life, I have no strength, no twist, no wonder
I twist crises into abstinence cigarettes
I bite into bread and spit out plastic
The only way out for me is my neighbor's mushrooms down there
Maybe she'll give me some if she's in a good mood
I go down the stairs, here it is
She went for them in the attic and now I can only hear through the door

Ceremony, I no longer feel it's festive
Empty sea of memories and islands with candles
Where I warm the spoon, I warm myself at the reception
For the commune, I shave solo and solo I laugh at the joke
About the primitive who just wanted one mushroom
And now he enjoys his neighbor's heroin
He came not knowing that it would flow through his veins
Now he's just waiting for sunrise and a peaceful sleep
But they are no more, neither the neighbor nor the son
Their son's cowboy game put them to sleep
The moment he started playing Eastwood
Blood flowed as evidence of a suspicious scene
And he, a fool, reached for the revolver
And signed with fingerprints a life sentence
Ask me about today, yesterday, I answer tomorrow
I die in the morning, and I live in the evenings
I used to remember, I don't remember what
Metamorphosis like Gregor Samsa, I knew punishment would follow
Dead breath in a stinky cell, I swallow fear
It's flashing outside, and her voice is still singing in my head