Napolju
Umoran, bolestan i mnogo ranjiv,
nikakav, ocajan, pomalo sanjiv,
napolju pticice
pale bi nicice,
kad bi me videle.
Polomljen, porazen, pomalo mrtav,
trese me groznica, glas mi je drhtav,
Tramvaji prolaze,
vode nadolaze,
dok me neutope.
Oci u oci sa svojom bedom
ja pravdam sebe i mrzim sve redom,
prica o ljubavi
obicno ugnjavi,
cutim i grize me cir.
A napolju nista vise
osim tople letnje kise,
a napolju lisce susti,
izgleda da mnogo pljusti.
Outside
Tired, sick, and feeling so weak,
no good, desperate, kinda lost in a dream,
outside the little birds
are falling like seeds,
if they could see me.
Broken, defeated, feeling half-dead,
fever's got me shaking, my voice is unsteady,
Trams are rolling by,
water's rising high,
before it drowns me.
Eye to eye with my own misery,
I justify myself and hate everything,
talk about love
usually just drags me down,
I stay quiet and it gnaws at me.
And outside there's nothing more
except warm summer rain,
and outside the leaves are rustling,
it seems like it's pouring down.