A keresés eredménye

Red night

I'm not an artist, I'm a player of the streets
I learned that the liar stands out by his glance
I have no fake moral teachings
You are looking for a saint - There are many churches
Immersed in my passions, my battle is unequal
The cord tightens and I feel it in my stomach
I work for my rent and my pocket money
I hang the sweaty t-shirts in my storeroom
I know my cop, I watch where I go
Hiding1 no matter where I'm going to
We live in holes built fifty years ago
We wear the same pants as two years ago
We learn the secrets of boxing
On a mezzanine floor of some old small industry
We work much, we're low paid
We listen to Sidiropoulos and Sigana Potamia
We forgive, but we never forget
If we don't like you, we don't like you, it's not up for discussion
Kotsos tell them, what is it that we look at first
Give them a taste of the streets we walk on
Friends sitting in the park talking to themselves
Bums in pain that really hurt
But them a beer and open your ears
Because the clearest conversations are happening late at night
And don't be afraid, I won't say these things anywhere
They aren't written in the script, they'll remain hidden
There is us and many others in every neighbourhood
Captured crabs in the same bucket
Like handcuffs on the hands of minors
Prayers are the words that break the bonds
Reality rap, made in the Balkans
Thessaloniki my mother I'm living in paranoia
 
There are no saints, everyone owes to death
I didn't drive out my hatred, someone told me love it
Our lives are dice and we shout throw them
The war begins when the night is turning red
There are no saints, everyone owes to death
I didn't drive out my hatred, someone told me love it
Our lives are dice and we shout throw them
We are ready, ready for the red night
 
It slowly gets dark and I thought of slowing down
With friends looking for lives, for some spring in the wilderness
The visions I have in my day are innumerable, I wasn't introduced
My name doesn't indicate how high I've been
I feel pure like a child in the streets
Until money comes in the way and my plans change
You fall like a stab to the PIMP by the whore
Red night, it's my brothers' mother
B-music sounds coming out of my speaker
Deadly lyrics with my voice is my element
I write like a maniac even though I always lose my file
I draw with ink to white (paper sheets) from my black life
They feel like a host, like they play first
I speed up from outside their home place by pressing a switch
The looks killed the traitor on the stage
And the show stopped, the show stopped
The waters flooded streets and sidewalks
The headphones in the ears seem to drive away the demons
I feel good being alone tonight
I do nothing for what I'm looking for but yet I found them
 
There are no saints, everyone owes to death
I didn't drive out my hatred, someone told me love it
Our lives are dice and we shout throw them
The war begins when the night is turning red
There are no saints, everyone owes to death
I didn't drive out my hatred, someone told me love it
Our lives are dice and we shout throw them
We are ready, ready for the red night
 

• 1. Drugs

Either them or us

The plan was clever as it was simple
I only learned discipline while I was growing up
A dog with a small controlled mind
Standing still when someone gives him some food
First stop at school, a dog kennel
The dogcatcher wearing a teacher's suit up until two o'clock
He taught us to compromise no matter what
And to question everything so something might happen
They're talking about holidays and good days
I lived holidays alongside metal bullets
In the hearts of the young people
From the long arm of the state that feeds us elections
Your neighbour died on the side of the road
And the profile of the killer is known to everyone
They hang pictures of Jesus
I see pictures of yet another white guy
Power is the greatest aphrodisiac
And the trade of hope clad in gold
I don't know if there's a God after all
Because I'm used to living alongside Satan
I saw a friend dying without even knowing why why
Every neighbourhood has a pedophile
I will kill if anyone touches my kid
And I'd do it again until my soul burns
So here, I came out to be defective
Your production line is a pure sewer
I had opportunities to live as a petty bourgeois
I'd prefer to live in Stavroupoli1 crazy
 
I'm on the edge - Where the ego pushes me to
On the sidelines - Where I've learned how to live
I've got a plan - To get out of this frame
My plan is simple - Either them or I
 
I'm on the edge - Where the ego pushes me to
On the sidelines - Where I've learned how to live
I've got a plan - To get out of this frame
My plan is simple - Either them or I
 
My name is on the street, they know it well
My weapon is my mind pointing towards money
My plan is to escape all this shit
But in the end I'm worse than I used to be
Close to 30 and still poor and living in Greece
Our story is absolutely true
Professional crooks criminals
Our thing is still either me or you
And my consciousness is still clean
And I've got a criminal record ever since I was a baby
My father is going abroad abroad
While he's praying that I don't find myself in jail
I lose sleep, awake from 3 in the morning
I have nightmares, I see that something went wrong
I'm bathed in sweat and I'm drowning in rage
But I've got my hands I'll do whatever it takes
 
I'm on the edge - Where the ego pushes me to
On the sidelines - Where I've learned how to live
I've got a plan - To get out of this frame
My plan is simple - Either them or I
 
I'm on the edge - Where the ego pushes me to
On the sidelines - Where I've learned how to live
I've got a plan - To get out of this frame
The plan is this - Either them or us
 

• 1. Psychiatric clinic in Thessaloniki

The pretty thoughts

We once were innocent we laughed a lot
Now we're strangers to each other and we're comfortable
The worst form of violence is cold
It's called alienation and dresses up in grey
A dove is dead on my balcony
A bible that I never opened since elementary school
Two verses I wrote down in a bill
And a dirty table with yesterday's food
Everyday life can make you sick
A breath that stinks from a nasty hangover
And if my face look a bit old now
This motherfucker, time, doesn't favour anyone
I saw my biggest fear, named loneliness
Something tells me that I'm gonna meet it again
Maybe if God allows us to live to an old age
We'll be proven wrong and have a person close to us
I've hanged out, many nights
With 'Ora tou stuff' and guilts, you got it?
A mini market with a table on the outside
The laughter of the lost every day, so I can endure
We spent our Summers sitting on some beer cases
Heat and Copa America on the screen
You don't need much to have everything
We say for consolation, during our 30s
 
Bad choices, insignificant jobs
We'll end up a memory some day like yesterday
The seed grew tall, he'll reach the ceiling
But everyday he does bairami1 with his mind
You dream at first, then you die
If you're lucky, you rest somewhere in between
Bad choices, insignificant jobs
We'll become history some day like yesterday
 
Whoever gets angry easily, fights alone
And this fucking road is tiring
Most of the time you walk alone on it
While you're playing stressfully with the coins in your pocket
They own the table we eat from end to end
Gold on their skin, gold
Even their roosters are laying eggs2 they've got things right
And they step on our heads because they're bowed
I've got an uncontrollable realism within me
And no one convinced me to keep it a secret
I have no solutions, if I had I would be out of these things
And I don't like taking part in the common affairs either
I'm afraid for myself, because nothing excites me
I look suspiciously even the ones I love
And I probably never loved my breath
It was stinking, like the smell of suffering
I only respect the sun, I look at it even if it burns me, but
You'll find me wandering in darkness
Some good friends went abroad
And we're talking to ourselves at night until it gets late
I say, what can we love and where can we find it?
We had it and let it go one night
And let's try to explain when we die
Why we woke up feeling empty in the morning
 
Bad choices, insignificant jobs
We'll end up a memory some day like yesterday
The seed grew tall, he'll reach the ceiling
But everyday he does bairami with his mind
You dream at first, then you die
If you're lucky, you rest somewhere in between
Bad choices, insignificant jobs
We'll become history some day like yesterday
 

• 1. Actual - A muslim feast, used here as slang, with the meaning of fantasizing about something that probably won't happen
• 2. Meaning they're extremely lucky

Nobody's son

In the dim lights while being high
My caricature reflects on the glass
The narrow room no longer fits me
And whoever I listen to tonight sings badly
I'm almost sick for some days now
But I never asked anyone to help me
I haven't learned to ask for things and maybe that's bad
But I became cynical from the things I saw
I saw my life before I even left home
Stamped with the title of bum
I saw wet sidewalks, people leaving
Lives wasted on some freezing Tuesday
I swear brother, this time I'm tired
But you were lying down in my bathroom in the morning
Every passing day is another loan of mine
Almost like, I'm stealing from my own death
I hurt whomever loves me, unintentionally
Being left alone to regret my actions again
The prettiest smile told me that she hates me
It seems as if I destroy everything I touch
The words of a gypsy that I heard the day before yesterday
I know that they're worth as much as a thousand prayers
We die barefoot, we're born nude
Who really loved us on this journey?
I know you want a hand to hold you tight
And a heart to beat alongside you when you're in danger
My mind often mocks my heart
My heart doesn't even speak to my insides
My hand writes without asking anyone
All together in the dizziness make me
Don't ask me, for the next day
Because for a handful of dollars people stop talking to you
And if I die, there'll be this song
That I managed to write and say
Sing it, like you never sang before
And let it be heard all the way to the other side
I don't want tears, flowers, many stories
I don't want formal and fake appearances
I just want anyone who does it to mean it
A sip of alcohol in the soil, to sweeten the soul 1
 
23 per day, I feel like I know everything
But I always freeze during the final hour
I miss a pure glance
I trust nobody and it's bad for me
23 per day, I feel like I know everything
But I always freeze during the final hour
I miss a pure glance
I trust nobody and it's bad for me
 
Alone and without hope in the ocean
I live in a 30 square meters, old apartment, on the ground floor
When I open the shutters so I can see some light
The city calls me 'Nobody's son'
 

• 1. Pouring some alcohol in the ground for the ones who died

Dreams cost

Whiskey with my mug, I pet my dog
He looks me in the eyes as if he knows where I was
Mud on my shoes, rainy days
My bed is empty as it was yesterday
Music with character and click play
Prince's Blues, Muddy Waters and Ray
Sometimes I think that I never woke up
And the mistakes I made are holding me
I seek justice from God in the nights
Because I talked to people and I fell into concrete
It doesn't matter, time will show us paths
The eyes say everything in men's conversations
I saw you looking down when we were talking
We both said words that we didn't believe
I get sweet nostalgia from time to time
For the 90's
 
I was watching Gabriel Batistuta at the World Cup
Ten-year-old bastards with our minds set to dive
One and a half thousand drachmas joggers, bought from the market
And arcade games, with levers and buttons
Drugs everywhere, cops nowhere
The kiosks were opened by thirteen-year-old kids
Palestinian earrings on the hat
Violence everyday, but everything was normal
Walking and smoking, with the weed hidden
In the shoes or beneath the balls
Over thirty years old and we're still talking backwards
Retro remnants from another generation
Dreams cost here and we don't have any money
But in the end it seems to me, that they choose us
The last one I saw was on Friday
When I fell asleep while listening to the frankosiriani
 
I saw that I met Markos and I hung out in the company
I was talking about Thessaloniki and he was talking about Piraeus
I felt familiar with the clay's litany
God, how much I loved the real thugness
Poverty is a teacher for every square
Young and old people with the same discipline
There's no room for slip and arrogance
My money is your money in every trouble
I don't know you - you don't know me, if the law asks about us
We become ghosts when there is something going on
Respect the young ones when they're good
Good are those that don't forget that they are young
 
Here we speak heavy, refugee-like Greek words
We listen to music with a toddlers' heart
A juke box in Chicago in '53
Playing the Mississippi Delta with a guitar from the plantation
We want to watch football by Latinos
The heart, the word was made for them
The hand of God, again and again
And I always celebrate like it was the first time
An Argentine flag hangs in my living room
I'm also surviving without money
When I sleep forever I know what I'll dream about
A firm handshake from a good friend
 
And at last, what I have will be there to stay
Watching August's sunset together
Amber from Egypt, weed from Izmir
And a true smile from a woman's lips