Đorđe Balašević "Odjebi JNA" lyrics

Translation to:en

Odjebi JNA

Odjebi, JNA...Dao sam ti jednu dobru godinu života...Najbolju, možda?Veliki Vračevi Medicine rascepe grudi kao narandžu i spuste novo srce u njih (pažljivo, zatvorenih šaka, kao da vraćaju vrapčića u gnezdo), razdvoje skalpelom svetlo od tame u mutnom jezgru zenice, bajaju, pokretnu nepokretno, čudotvore na ljudima, pa opet, ni oni ne mogu da mi vrate moju otrgnutu devetnaestu....Nikad više...Ali...Proklet da sam...Ja sam bar imao dvadesetu. Dvadeset prvu. I još neke dvadeset-tridesete...Za razliku od dečaka na čije crno uokvirene fotografije svakodnevno nailazim na predzadnjim stranicama štampe...Oni ostadoše negde u devetnaestoj...Zaljubljeni...Zaigrani...Zbunjeni...Ne dospevši da svoje olovne vojnike razdvoje od olovnih zrna, koje su im Zli Starci tako bezbožnički podmetnuli u džepove...Ne, Brate Kaine, ne zovi me u polje...Ne mami me, zalud, da prošetamo minskim poljem, moj grešni sivomaslinasti brate...Poturi nekog drugog Dobrovoljca na branike svoje nesposobnosti...Okači drugu metu na svoje kartonske bedeme...Nema Mojih u ovom Ratu Naših...Ma znam...Ne može to tek tako...Čičak Izdaje se kači na sve strane. I meni će ga već neki mangup prilepiti na leđa, onako u prolazu, tapšući me po ramenu, tobož prijateljski...Razmišljao sam o tome...Koga izdati kad mi ostane da biram između nas dvoje?I, žalim...Ali prestar sam da bih izdao sebe, još jednom...Zato odjebi, JNA...Dosta je bilo...

Fuck off, YPA

Fuck off, YPA*...I gave you one good year of my life...Maybe the best one...The Great Sorcerers of the Medicine split up the chest like an orange and into it, they put the new heart (carefully, with their fists closed, as though they return fallen sparrow to his nest), by scalpel they separate light from darkness in the turbid core of the retina, they cast spells, move the immovable, pull miracles on people, but again, even they cannot bring me back my taken nineteenth...Never again...But...Damn I...At least I had twentieth. Twenty-first. And some other twenties and thirties...Not like those boys whose photos framed in black I find every day at the last pages of the newspapers...They were left somewhere in nineteenth...In love...Playful...Confused...They didn't get to separate their tin soldiers from the tin bullets, which were planted in their pockets by the godless Evil Old Men...No, brother Cain, don't call me in the field...Don't lure me, it's in vain, to walk through the mine field, my sinful olive-green brother...Put another Volunteer on the trenches of your incompetence...Hang another target on your cardboard bastions...There are no Mine in this War of Ours...I know...That's not how it goes...Burdock of the treachery catches everywhere. Some hooligan's going to stick it to my back, passing by, tapping me on the shoulder, allegedly friendly...I thought about that...Who am I going to betray when it all comes to just the two of us?And, I'm sorry...But I'm to old to betray myself, once again...So, fuck off YPA...It was enough...

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