Mi smo jos uvek zemljaci
Kada se noæ i subota sretnu
Zakuva se takav žur na Menhetnu
Da bele rade iskaèu iz saksije
Startuju tada opasne njuške
Protuve ženske, seke muške
Al glavni provod ipak je lov na taksije
Majstor je stao ko da je znao
Sitna mu kiša farove tiho gasila
I uèini mi se momenat pre tog
Da na visuljku prepoznah svetog Vasila
Svi su taksisti uglavnom isti
Stari kontraši i nihilisti
Ili æutljivci nemi od ružnih prizora
Na poznat govor samo se trže
Neko veæ trubi da tera brže
Proviri mišiæ iz ugla retrovizora
Al svaka psovka mišolovka
I on je jedva èekao da se ulovimo
Odgurnu volan ko supu vrelu
Okrenu se lupi po èelu
Zaglavljen metak i tišina
A srce tuèe sedam osmina
Mi smo još juèe bili zemljaci
Poznam ja odmah naše oèi iste
Šta se tu folirate da ste stranci
Kada niste
Mi smo još juèe bili tim snova
A evo kako danas stoje stvari
Ne smeta ništa što je zemlja nova
Mi smo stari
Devedes` prve spakov`o kofer
Hortikultura, trenutno šofer
`Ajmo do njega, po ženicu i svastiku
Tri èase kaže, reèicu prave
Èetiri bome, Njujork poplave
Ote se suza i zamuti mastiku?
I reèe nam gorko ne d`o Bog nikom
Da `leb zaradi politikom, greh je to
Vidiš, moji sinèiæi Vangel i Blaže
dohvate globus, Strumicu traže
I gde god prstiæ na Balkan stave
Pokriju barem tri države
I tako krene cuga za cugom
Proveja jutro kao sitno brašno
Javi se onaj stari žal za Jugom
Nista strašno
Èuvaj mi Bože bivše zemljake
Moje su pesme njinih reèi pune
A tuge su nam tako podjednake
Da me zbune
We're Still Countrymen
When night and Saturday meet
Such a rush starts in Manhattan
White shirts popping out of flowerpots
Dangerous snouts start up
Female scoundrels, male siblings
But the main fun is still hunting for taxis
The master stopped as if he knew
A light rain quietly extinguishing the headlights
And just before that moment
I thought I recognized Saint Vasil on the visor
All taxi drivers are mostly the same
Old rebels and nihilists
Or silent ones, speechless from ugly scenes
They only startle at familiar speech
Someone honks to make them go faster
A muscle peeks out from the corner of the rearview mirror
But every curse is a trap
And he could hardly wait for us to catch
He pushed the steering wheel like hot soup
Turned around, hit himself on the forehead
A stuck bullet and silence
And the heart beats seven eighths
We were still countrymen yesterday
I immediately recognize our same eyes
Why pretend to be strangers
When you're not
We were still a dream team yesterday
And here's how things stand today
It doesn't matter that the country is new
We're old
In '91, packed the suitcase
Horticulture, currently a driver
Let's go to him, for a wife and sister-in-law
Three glasses he says, I'll say the right word
Four indeed, New York floods
A tear escapes and blurs the ink?
And bitterly he said, may God not allow
Anyone to earn bread with politics, it's a sin
You see, my little sons Vangel and Blaže
Grab the globe, looking for Strumica
And wherever they place a finger on the Balkans
They cover at least three countries
And so the drinks start flowing one after another
Morning passes like fine flour
That old longing for Yugoslavia arises
Nothing serious
God bless my former countrymen
My songs are full of their words
And our sorrows are so equal
That they confuse me