Skitnica / Tramp

! This post was written long ago. What you're reading is not necessarily how I feel about things in 2016. This blog was started by an 18-year-old in 2001. Please, keep that in mind before you freak out.

Talk later. Can't think much. Wrote this in June, finished it last week.

Skitnica

U tvom slučaju, uputstvo za otvaranje kutije je u kutiji,
sočan od ljubavi, presušio od ljubavi, sve-od-ljubavi.

Zašto?

Skitnice, skitnice...hej, skitnice.
Pre pet godina, rado bih dala život za tebe.
No, danas bih više volela da
voliš za mene,
uradiš ovo za mene,
uradiš ono za mene,
sve sem onoga što si već uradio.
To je bilo glupo.

Hej, skitnice, ponovo se srećemo,
u Nigdezemlji gde se samo skitnice i šunjaju.
Ne znaš zbog čega si ovde,
ne umeš da čitaš natpise,
pa ne znaš ni gde si.
Možda ti treba malo vremena izvan svega?
Možda ti treba malo otrova?

Ima mnogo skitnica u ovim krajevima,
kažu da se osećaju stvarno slobodno,
mogli bi da se udave, no oni su slobodni,
mogli bi da ih pojedu, no oni su slobodni,
mogu umreti od otvora, no oni su slobodni.
Ja samo balansiram na beloj liniji na sredini puta, ali sam slobodna,

Da li si ikad bio slobodan, skitnice?
Da li si?
Da li si?

U tvom slučaju, sloboda je nešto što se sanja toliko da izgleda kao stvarnost, nešto što se postiže tako što dovedeš sebe do trenutka kad je izolacija sloboda...

...pokazaću ti drugu vrstu izolativne slobode.
Dođi.
_________________________________

Tramp

With you, the directions on how to open the box are in the box.
Love-succulent, love-dry, love-anything.

Why?

Tramp, tramp...hey, tramp.
Five years ago I would've gladly died for you.
Nowadays, I'd prefer if you died for me,
Loved for me,
Did this for me,
Did that for me,
Everything other than what you've already done.
That one was stupid.

Hey tramp, I meet you again.
In Nowhereland where only tramps roam.
You don't know why you're here,
You can't read the labels
So you don't even know where you are,
Perhaps you need some time away?
Perhaps you need a little poison?

There are many tramps around these parts,
They say they're feeling really free,
They might drown, but they're free.
They might get eaten, but they're free.
They might die of poison, but they're free.
I'm only walking on the white line in the middle of the road, but I'm free.

Have you ever been free, tramp?
Have you ever?
Have you ever?

With you, freedom is something one dreams of so much that it looks as if it were true, something you achieve by bringing yourself to the point when isolation is freedom...

...I'll show you a different kind of isolative freedom.
Come along.

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