Putnicka pesma

[Behemot]

Jedna veoma moja omiljena lepa simbolicna uspavljujuca pesma. Obozavam da je slusam kada putujem negde nocu, pred spavanje ili kad ne mogu da zaspem (posle pesme zaspem) ili kad si u nekom tripu ... ma

Gogol Bordello - Through the roof and underground

When there's a trap set up for you
In every corner of this town
And so you learn the only way to go is underground
When there's a trap set up for you
In every corner of this town
And so you learn the only way to go is underground
When there's a trap set up for you
In every corner of your room
And so you learn the only way to go is through the roof

Through the roof, underground

And as we're crossing border after border
We realize that difference is none
It's underdogs who, and if you want it
You always have to make your own fun

And as the upperdog leisurely sighing
The local cultures are dying and dying
The programmed robots are buying and buying
And a psycho load of freaks they are still trying trying

And as the boy scouts learn to read between the lines
The silver rabbits hop between their fathers' lies
And boy scouts ask "Where? Where do they go?"
They go to the country that they only know

Just like their meanings they lay between the lines
Between the borders their real countries hide
The strategigo's saw their advertise
Their strategy of being is one of in-your-face disguise

Through the roof! And underground!
Through the roof! Underground!

Ej, bravo!

Gogol Bordello je jedan od mojih omiljenih bendova.

Evo još jedna pesma od Eugena Hutza, ciganina lutalice:



Gogol Bordello - Nomadic Chronicle

Back when I was young and crazy, as they say,
But sure, I worked pretty hard, yeah.
Stole some money from my mom, and I hit the road to Leningrad.
I get stopped on the next train stop, in the middle of rural Ukraine.
This is how it's all begun,
And I will tell this story of a true rebellion.

Hoya hoya hoya
Hoya paranoia.
(enough paranoia.)

Maybe I'm a man who is propelled,
Spinning circles of his doom.
Or maybe I'm just paranoid,
placed by the lord in this room.
And a bottle will always be my cover.
All of your eyebrows, will you please untie.
And if there's any room for a Roma,
What else is there left to romanticize?

Hoya, hoya, hoya
hoya paranoia

This is only when I'm drunk,
Or do I see things any clearly?
It's just like when one is dyslexic.
Whatever, I will stay discivil!

Hoya hoya hoya
hoya paranoia.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKiq_cSxYkM

[Acketa]

Naleteo sam na ovu pesmu večeras.
Ova je malo više emigrantska, ali opet i putnička:

      Hljeb

                       
      Parobrod spreman. More se koleba.
      Posljednji plamen na zapadu trne;
      Suton se rađa i s' jesenjeg neba
      Polako pada na hridine crne.

      Paluba puna. Ruke uzdignute
      Pozdrav šalju i rupcima mašu.
      U mnoštvu ovih vidim čeljad našu,
      Naslonili se na pervaz pa ćute...

      Zemljaci moji, dokle ćete, dokle?
      "Tamo daleko! Jer nas usud prokle
      I na nas pade tvrda tuča s neba..."

      A zar vam nije zavičaja žao?
      "Žao je brate... Bog mu sreću dao...
      No hljeba nema... Zbogom! Hljeba... hljeba..."


      Aleksa Šantić

[lithobrowser]

Malo je offtopic, al tolko sam se od prekjuče navukao na pesmicu, da ne mogu da odolim :

Sloba Mićić

.
Highlight :
Koliko je dobro Slobi Mićiću
samo reci gde, on kaže 'Tamo ići ću'

[Lazar]

  Pesmica je fantastična! I ja je preporučujem

[nepoznata]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQeqmNbA2Hs

.... Sailing
Takes me away
To where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free...

[Acketa]

Wandrin' star

I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Wheels are made for rolling, mules are made to pack
I've never seen a sight that didn't look better looking back
I was born under a wandrin' star
Life can make you prisoner and the plains can bake you dry
Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry
Home is made for coming from, for dreams of going to
Which with any luck will never come true
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Do I know where hell is, hell is in hello
Heaven is goodbye forever, its time for me to go
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star
(Life can make you prisoner and the plains can bake you dry)
(Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry)
(Home is made for coming from, for dreams of going to)
(Which with any luck will never come true)
(I was born under a wandrin' star)
(I was born under a wandrin' star)
When I get to heaven, tie me to a tree
For I'll begin to roam and soon you'll know where I will be
I was born under a wandrin' star
A wandrin' wandrin' star


Još kad zapeva čikac Lee Marvin dobije se genijalna stvar!

 

[gosn.shofershajbna]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tgvxu8QY01s

[lithobrowser]

Moja omiljena pesmica iz zlatnog doba šabačkog rokenrola :

Delirium Maximum - Put, voz i bluz

. Eh kako se oduševih kad je sretoh na jutjubu  .

[Un I.Q. ue]

Moja omiljena pesmica iz zlatnog doba šabačkog rokenrola : Delirium Maximum - Put, voz i bluz. Eh kako se oduševih kad je sretoh na jutjubu  .

Bas je dobra

[ilegalac]

Najbaksuznija putnicka pesma..

Djole Baladasevic i Rani Mraz - Kristifore crni sine

Dosadio španskom kralju
stalno jedan isti svet.
Na Kolumba izbor pade
da načini preokret.

Nije stig'o da se snađe,
već mu utrapiše lađe
i rekoše: "Nađi kontinent!"

Nije znao da će sasvim
promašiti liniju,
da će naći Ameriku
sve tražeći Indiju!

Kristifore, crni sine,
kud se vinu na pučine
kad ti to ne leži ni za lek?

Ne ide se preko mora
bez kompasa i motora,
nema veze što je srednji vek.

Jednog dana, kad pred njima
neka zemlja velika.
Svi misliše: "Indija!",
kad ono - Amerika.

Kristof se za glavu hvata,
stavlja omču oko vrata
da potraži stvarno drugi svet.

Ljudi moji, totalno sam promašio liniju,
našao sam Ameriku a tražio Indiju!

Kristifore, crni sine,
kud se vinu na pučine
kad ti to ne leži ni za lek?

Ne ide se preko mora
bez kompasa i motora,
nema veze što je srednji vek.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SuEjQYdx1M

[Lazar]

Ova nije baš 100% putnička, al' ima drumove

Odakle ti bože ovi drumovi

Odakle ti, bože, ovi drumovi?
Vidiš da su slepi, prokleti?
Što ih, brate ludi, takve izmisli,
kad ni jedan tamo ne vodi?

Tamo gde smo zoru čekali,
tamo gde smo rosu ispili,
s vetrovima konje jahali
i usnula polja budili.

Da mi podaš pola svojih gradova,
da me pospeš kišom dukata,
da mi kupiš zlatni čardak najveći -
ja do zore moram pobeći!

Tamo, gde smo čergu podigli,
tamo gde smo vatre palili,
dairama zvezde hvatali
masečeve pesme pevali.

Tiho, idemo sad mi,
da se sunce ne naljuti,
da se nebo ne probudi,
jer su umorni,
moji kumovi to su jedini,
pratiće me kad se belom zorom oženim!

Hajde, zapevajmo sad,
pa ko hoće nek se budi,
neka čitav svet poludi,
ne moram se ja nebom kumiti, zorom ženiti
više volim nju - garavu, tajno ljubiti!

Ruke! Ruke pruži mi!
Nek' ogrnu noć u belo,
neka moje vrelo telo zorom umiju,
ne trebaju mi bolji drugovi,
niko od nas lepši nije, niko srećniji!

Dušu, dušu uzmi mi!
Nek' u vatri sva izgorim,
sve dok oči ne zatvorim pesme pevaj mi!
Zlatne kočije noć ce dovesti,
sa usana tvojih ja ću otrov popiti!

[ilegalac]

Pile koje je krenulo za Čile


Ovog je proleća blesavo pile
rešilo da ode pravo za Čile
napustilo posao i spakovalo ranac
i tada veselo selo u čamac.

Dunavom i Savom plovilo je mirno
kada mu odnekud kapetan papagaj svirno.
Prešlo je brzo u njegov brod
i onda upoznalo čitav novi rod.

Papagaj Ćira i tetka Ruža putuju,
do Monte Karla oni zajedno druguju,
vode tri detlića tamo da se karta,
milioneri rešili su biće do nekog marta.

A dok je lagano pilo vino u Portu,
sa srndaćem podelilo je čokoladnu tortu,
sa tim i priču novu o putu do Šangaja,
gde se srndać modelingom bavio do maja.

I dok je pile svetom putovalo,
još puno je drugara upoznalo,
vuka koji je krenuo u Ganu i liju u Bocvanu,
i još dve gospođe patke, koje su pošle do Jamajke.

Kada je srelo druga medveda,
on mu je rekao šta mu za put treba,
kompas, ranac i osmeh dugačak,
kada ga na drumu sretne putnik mačak.

Tada se ukrcalo na sledeći dug let,
u cepelinu srelo je puno putnika opet,
najdraži od svih Peđalon mu beše,
o Indiji oni ceo put pričaše.

Čivitlija negde na Tobagu našlo,
da pile ode u Afriku odmah bi se snašlo,
savetima on ga je opremio skroz,
čak i koji u Zambiji da uhvati voz.

Kostanu Beograda dosta je bilo,
o Južnoj Americi njemu se snilo.
Telefonom on piletu javio je da kreće,
prvim avionom u Kubu sleće.

Dok je voćni koktel u Hondurasu pilo,
email-om dojavu važnu je dobilo,
gde u Cejlonu svežih rolnica biće,
Geravodeli informaciju uvek imaće.

I tako je naše blesavo pile,
konačno srećno stiglo u Čile,
i da forum nije čitalo,
mnogo bi više (za)lutalo.

[kostan]

Ha ha, odlično   

[Jelena]

  

[chivitli]

Hahaha, super