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Published on decembar 14th, 2010 | by vuja

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Njima – Boki i Vuja

Zašto misliš neće moći.
Ko je bio Ferus Paša u ponoći?
Mislim oće ali sutra,
ali vaza jeste sutra.

Juče, danas, malo morgen,
juče jeste, jeste fen.

Mokra kosa zlata vredi.
Zlata vredi a i sedi.
Zašto moliš, sutra voliš,
frižider je a i goliš.

Sad ja vodim, ona spava,
na jastuku tvrda glava.
U plamenu oganj živi,
jadem trešnje, jedem kivi.

Pijem viski, gledam Danhil,
imam noge, imam profil.
Sekirica, čuturica, pica i ptica,
a napolju zima čica.

Jao meni, bože moj,
imam pticu, imam kroj.
Svašta beše i planini gore,
ko to ima noćne more.

Što nas gleda i ne spava
u zelenoj travi mrava.
Mislio sam i još mislim
kad ću opet ja da visim.

Kao uvek, sad se menja.
Kad ću biti ja neženja?

Igraćemo kolo lepo.
Ko ne igra baš je krepo.
Mislili smo da ste živi,
gega, skače Čili Vili.

Za bicikl on ne haje.
Bolje zdravlje neka daje.
Jer je zdravlje naša dika
to jest slika i prilika.

Traćio sam tvoje dane,
natenane uz virmane.
Kiša pada, ustah ja.
zeleni se trava ta.

Zeleni i mladi mi smo bili
Cupka, ciče Vili Čili.

Zaključci su vrlo jasni.
Svaki čovek na voz kasni.
Ko se žuri i ko juri,
vrelom vodom nek se šuri.

Ptica koja jatom leti,
sama sebi netom šteti.
Ko propeva i zapeva,
taj batine neka sneva.

Ko se ovoj pesmi smeje,
ljubav naša nek ga greje.

Slike vise u vrh crkve.
Bože moj vidi mrkve.
Pričali su od pričanja.
Jezik moj neka ih proganja.

Maramice brišu svašta,
lažu ptice, laže tašta.

Dunav jeste reka plava,
cupi moja je garava.
Što ne haješ iz nehaja
nego igraš ringe raja.

Pesme idu put slobode,
proleteri nek nam gode.
Niste bil doslednici
jer ste bili u prilici.

Ko izdade, izdajice jece,
najebasmi mi se švece.

—-

Neka teče reka Drina.
Ljubav naša neka plamti.
Oni će da odu gore.
Ustajte svi na zemlji kleti.

Napisali Boki & Vuja pre dvadeset godina


Them

I drink whiskey, watch danhil,
I have legs, I have a profile.
Hatchet, flasks, drinking and birds,
and outdoor winter Cica.

Woe is me, my God,
I have a bird, I cut.
Everything was the mountain top,
Who has nightmares.

What sees us and not sleeping
in the green grass of ants.
I thought and still think
when will I again to higher levels.

As always, now change.
When will I be a bachelor?

Round will play nice.
Who does not play just a crepe.
We thought that you are alive,
Toddler, Chilly Willy jumps.

The bicycle he does not care.
Gives a better health.
For the health of our pride
that is, and image.

I am seeking for your days,
gingerly with the transfer order.
Rain falls, I rose up.
green is the grass.

Green and young people we have been
Cupka, breasts Willie Chile.

The conclusions are very clear.
Every man on the train is late.
Who are in a hurry and who rushes,
hot water, let the shura.

Flock of birds that fly,
just damage itself.
Who prop and sing
a dream in the beating.

Who laughs this poem,
our love let it warm.

Pictures hanging in the top of the church.
My God sees the carrots.
They told the stories.
My tongue shall haunt them.

Wipes deleted everything,
birds lying, lying mother in law.

The Danube river is blue,
cupi my Dirty.
You do not haješ negligence
but play Ringe Raja.

Poetry is the path of freedom,
Let us please the proletariat.
You did not was doslednici
because you had a chance.

Who betrayed, traitor vantages,
najebasmi we are saints.

—-

Some flowing river Drina.
Our love shall burn.
They will go up.
Rise up all the land beyond.

written by Boki & Vuja, twenty years ago

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