Djordje Balasevic – Nemam nista sa tim

Ona je volela blues, njen kralj zvao se Peter Green,
A ja, sasvim slucajno tu… Za taj film neko levi, sasvim…

Uvek je gledala sat, i cim sklope kazaljke krug
Ko mala bi saputala tad, da negde neko misli na nju.

U njenoj sobi mala riznica greha, kao duga, preko besmisla most…
Puno knjiga nekog prebeglog Ceha, i sportska stampa ako naidje gost…

Uglavnom prodje sve, ali ostane blues,
boje se razliju kad ga cujem na radiju…
Ubija metronom… sta taj sat radi tu?
Jedan i nula pet, neko misli na nju.

Negde u meni je kvar, i mrak sto me gricka k’o mis…
I sav sam kao ona staklena stvar u kojoj veje kad je pomeris.

U ovoj sobi ravnoteza je prosta:
sto i krevet i prekidac za luc…
Ispod cena mole cenjenog gosta da pre puta ne zaboravi kljuc.

Uglavnom prodje sve, ali ostane blues,
boje se razliju kad ga cujem na radiju…
Ubija metronom… sta taj sat radi tu?
Jedan i nula pet, neko misli na nju.

Ona je volela blues…
Oh, yeah, lucidni Peter Green…
A ja, ja sam voleo nju, a blues… Sta blues?
Nemam nista sa tim.

tn_Djordje Balasevic - Panta Rei

English Translation

I Have Nothing To Do With It

She loved blues, her king was Peter Green,
And I was just randomly there… completely unrelated to the story…

She was always watching the clock and as soon as the hands cross
Like a kid, she’d whisper, that there’s someone somewhere thinking of her.

In her room, a small treasury of sins, like a rainbow, a bridge over the absurdity..
A lot of books by some refugee Czech, and sports magazines in case a guest should arrive…

Mostly everything goes away, but the blues stays,
colours diffuse when I hear it on the radio…
A metronome is killing me… what’s the clock doing here?
One zero five, someone’s thinking of her.

There’s a malfunction somewhere inside me, and a darkness that’s nibbling on me like a mouse…
And I’m completely like the glass thing inside which it snows when you move it.

The balance in this room is simple:
a table and a bed and a lighting switch…
Below the price, they’re asking the honorable guest not to forget the key before he leaves…

Mostly everything goes away, but the blues stays,
colours diffuse when I hear it on the radio…
A metronome is killing me… what’s the clock doing here?
One zero five, someone’s thinking about her.

She loved blues…
Oh, yeah, the lucid Peter Green…
And I, I loved her, but blues… What blues?
I have nothing to do with it.

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