Lyrics of Odraslima - Lane, Ministar Lingvista, Nensi

Odraslima (original)

Timbe: «Godine prolaze, i ne menja se ništa…»
Marčelo: «I dalje furamo svoje… uvek isti.»
Šef Sale: «Nije bitno što se borimo sa glađu, ne… jer je uloženo -- sve.»
(Marčelo)
Kroz stvarnosti okno okom okomljen na svet
Gledaš da sabiješ u stih tih opažanja splet…
Pomisliš da neko sluša taj tekst, svaku tu reč
Da oseća isti bes, isto gleda na svet
Ljudi te ubede da si ti njihov glas
Da i oni jednako ginu za istu tu stvar
Srednji prst za revolt — pali baklju, bira stranu
I — bira tvoju, pa tripuješ da nisi sam tu
Al' onda napuni dva’es' i tad se nešto desi
Pa čitav taj fazon odjednom skapira k’o dečji
I sve u šta se kleo sada zove pubertetom
Željan da se meša sa masom u fensi klubu petkom
Traži srodnu gušu, ne želi note s mukom
Gladan paorskog veselja ide trbuhom za sluhom
Mislio si da tu ima vere u autora i bunt
A samo su slušali pesme.
Čovek je čoveku zvuk
U mirno more proseka sad voze svoje lađe
A ti i dalje oplovljavaš Smrt Dobre Nade
— suludu veru da cela borba nije za džabe
Da za ljude nisi samo disk što iz plejera laje
Trik što se preraste, hit za dinu-dve
Samo trip što traje dok traje i onda ćao-će
A tebi nije jasno, jer si klinac k’o pre…
Kroz stvarnosti okno okom okomljen na svet
Refren (svi):
Stariji, sjebaniji, ali nužno iskusniji
I možda nas sada, tek sada stvarno treba slušati
Ljudi dođu i odu, tek ponekad se sete
Al' tada samo kažu: «Nisam više dete.»
Ja jesam.
Ej, Miško, a ti?
Ja jesam.
Rade, a ti?
I ja sam
Neno, a ti?
I ja sam.
Slušaoče, a ti?
(Suid):
Dobro došli u naš mali svet!
Slušaoče, da li si spreman za let?
Pa evo, ima godina… ne mogu više da se setim
Kad god pišem stihove, lagano poletim
I znam dobro, unutar mene je klinja
Dok bit me voza, muzika rominja…
Pa dignem glavu, zajebem kintu i slavu
I sve ljude što se trude da mi kažu šta ću da budem
Kad porastem… pa bla-bla-bla…
Bilo nas je više -- sad smo mala skupina
Hoćeš kola, hoćeš kuću, hoćeš stan?
Teško je, stižu godine, znam…
A mi smo večna margina: evo, Filteri i ja…
Toliko godina… srećni smo, pa zaigramo ča-ča-ča
Ponekad se pitam šta je to u čoveku, da odraste šta ga tera
Šta on to smera, ej… šta on to smera?
A juče su nam pričali bajke -- evo, pričaju nam i danas
A mi smo još uvek deca.
Zato, ne brini za nas
Raširenih očiju i toplog srca, s osmehom od Sunca
Dete na vrata kuca… ti, ti samo otvori!
Za sve ljude sa ove strane: tu su Miško, Marčelo
Nensi, Rade i Lane… i čika Su, pozdrave vam šalje!
Dignite ruke, što više i dalje, da poljubimo ljubav
Da ostanemo deca.
Jer, tu negde u nama, još jedan klinac čeka
Da ga čuvaš, i budeš njegov anđeo, care…
Jedna ljubav, za sve ljude prave
Refren (svi):
Stariji, sjebaniji, ali nužno iskusniji
I možda nas sada, tek sada stvarno treba slušati
Ljudi dođu i odu, tek ponekad se sete
Al' tada samo kažu: «Nisam više dete.»
Ja jesam.
čika Su, a ti?
I ja jesam.
Lane, a ti?
I ja sam
Kepo, a ti?
(muk starca)
…slušaoče, a ti?

(translation)

Timbe: "Years go by, and nothing changes…"
Marcello: "We still steal ours - always the same."
Chief of the Hall: "It doesn't matter that we fight hunger, not… because it's invested - everything."
(Marcello)
Through reality the window with the eye perched on the world
You look to sum up in the verse of these observations a web…
You think someone is listening to that text, every word
To feel the same anger, he also looks at the world
People convince you that you are their voice
Yes, they die equally for the same thing
Middle finger for revolt - lights the torch, chooses the side
And - he chooses yours, so you try not to be alone
But then turn two and then something happens
So I read that style all of a sudden, like a child
And everything he swore to is now called puberty
Eager to mingle with the crowd at the fancy club on Fridays
He’s looking for a kindred goose, he doesn’t want notes with anguish
Hungry for Paorian joy goes belly up for hearing
You thought there was faith in the author and rebellion
And they just listened to the songs.
Man is sound to man
On average, they are now driving their boats into the calm sea
And you are still sailing around the Death of Good Hope
- the crazy belief that the whole fight is not for nothing
That for people you are not just a disc that barks from the player
The trick that grows is a hit for a dune or two
Just a trip that lasts as long as it lasts and then bye-bye
And it's not clear to you, because you're a kid like before…
Through reality the window with the eye perched on the world
Chorus (all):
Older, fucked up, but necessarily more experienced
And maybe we really, really need to be listened to now
People come and go, only sometimes do they remember
But then they just say, "I'm not a child anymore."
I am.
Hey, Miško, what about you?
I am.
Rade, and you?
Me too
Neno, and you?
Me too.
Listener, what about you?
(Suid):
Welcome to our little world!
Listener, are you ready to fly?
Well, there are years… I can't remember anymore
Whenever I write verses, I take off slowly
And I know well, there's a kid inside me
While the bit drives me, the music of the Roma…
So I raise my head, fuck the money and fame
And all the people who are trying to tell me what I'm going to be
When I grow up… so blah blah blah bla
There were more of us - now we are a small group
Do you want a car, do you want a house, do you want an apartment?
It's hard, the years are coming, I know…
And we are the eternal margin: here, Filters and I…
We have been happy for so many years, so we play cha-cha-cha
Sometimes I wonder what it is in a man to grow up, what makes him
What is he up to, hey… what is he up to?
And yesterday they told us fairy tales - here, they still tell us today
And we are still children.
So, don't worry about us
Eyes wide and warm-hearted, with a smile from the Sun.
Knock on the door, you just open it!
For all the people on this side: there are Miško, Marcelo
Nancy, Rade and Lane… and Uncle Su, send you greetings!
Raise your hands, as far as possible, to kiss love
Let's stay children.
Because, somewhere in us, another kid is waiting
To guard him, and be his angel, kings…
One love, for all people
Chorus (all):
Older, fucked up, but necessarily more experienced
And maybe we really, really need to be listened to now
People come and go, only sometimes do they remember
But then they just say, "I'm not a child anymore."
I am.
Uncle Su, and you?
I did too.
Lane, what about you?
Me too
Kepo, and you?
(muk starca)
… Listener, and you?