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lyrics

Brothers

Two brothers, there once were two brothers,
the tortured one and the happy one,
one was locked up at all times,
the other got all that he wanted.
Two parents, there once were two parents
who decided,
to raise their children differently,
than most people do.
They locked one boy up,
and spoiled the other
tortured the one
loved the other.
When the loved boy was growing
he liked to write stories
about bunnies and birds and angels
all his young years.
Then suddenly through the wall
he began to hear
drilling, punching, moaning
breaking, scratching, suffering.
He asked his mother – mummy
what is it I hear through the nights
and mother said – sonny dear,
it's just dreams – don't you worry.
The stories became darker still
and weirder, stranger,
better, more concise,
that he wrote during waking nights.
But all of a sudden he decides
to go into the room where the sounds come from
keeping him awake all nights
the strange moans keep coming.
Here, the story splits into two
and it's up to you to decide,
what's true and what never happens
except in the little boys head.
According to version one all he finds
is mother and father laughing,
faking the sounds all along,
with drill and a whistle and moaning.
This story finishes years later,
when the boy, now a man, returns,
a successful writer to his old home,
and turns the stinking bedding.
He finds his brother there, o, brother of mine
rotting, dead, a body
the tender bones all cracked up,
all of his skin badly burnt.
In tiny fist does the brother clench,
the best story of all time
the writer can’t ever write something is good,
he collapses in front of his rival.
Two brothers, there once were two brothers,
the tortured one and the happy one,
one died for the other,
the other lost all he had had.
The second version is even worse,
more horrible than the first one
he catches his mother and father at work,
and the brother is only half-dead.
So that very same night, as they fall asleep,
the brother creeps into their bedroom
covers their faces with pillows
smothers them dead.
Two brothers, there still are two brothers,
but now their parents are dead,
a shovel sang songs above them
the ground closed up all around them.

*******************************************

Brata

(dva) Brata, bila sta dva brata,
ta mučeni in ta vesel,
je eden zaprt bil za vrata,
drug vse, kar je hotel, je imel.
Dva starša, bila sta dva starša,
ki odločila sta se,
da vzgajat je treba drugače,
kot to večina počne.
Sta enega fanta zaprla,
ta drucga razvajat sta šla
enega vse dni trpiiiinčilaaa
drucga ljubila-la-la.
Ko ljubljeni fant je odraščal
zgodbe je pisal rad
o zajčkih in ptičkih in aaaangelih
vso svojo rosno pomlad.
A sčasoma preko stene
je sliiiišaaatiii začel,
vrtanje, luknjanje, stokanje,
lomljenje, praskanje, gnev.
Vprašal je mamo – maaamiicaa,
kaj slišim to jaz vse noči,
mama je rekla – sinko zlat,
to sanjaš le, le brez skrbi.
Kljub temu so zgodbe postajale
njegove temnejše vse, čudne
močnejše vse, boljše, izpiljene
ki pisal jih je noči budne.
Lepega dne pa odpravi se
v sobo, s katere ga zvoki
preganjajo v temi vseee noči
ne dajo mu spat čudni stoki.
Tu zgodba na dvoje se razdeli
odločit se morate sami,
kaj res je in kaj se sploh ne zgodi,
razen v fantkovi glavi.
Po verziji ena tam najde le
očeta in mamo smejoča,
ki zvoke poooneeveeerjata,
z vrtalko, piščalko in stokom.
Ta zgodba zaključi se leta kasneje,
ko fantič, zdaj moški se vrne,
uspešen pisatelj v rodni svoj dom,
blazino smrdljivo obrne.
Tam brata zagleda, o bratec moj,
strohnelega, mrtvega, truplo,
drobne koščice polomljene,
vsako ped kože ocvrto.
V rokici drobni stiska brat,
zgodbo najboljšo vseh časov,
da take srečni spisat ne zna,
se zgrudi pred tem, kar je našel.
(dva) Brata, bila sta dva brata,
ta mučeni in ta vesel,
je eden umrl za drugega,
drug zgubil je vse, kar je imel.
A druga različica strašnejša je,
grozljivejša še od prve
očeta in mamo ujame na delu,
a brat je še le na pol mrtev.
Zato tisto noč, ko se spravita spat.
se v spalnico njuno brat splazi
z blazinama skrije jima obraz
z blazinama ju zadavi.
Dva brata, še vedno dva brata
le starša zdaj mrtva sta
nad njima je pela lopata
nad njima zaprla se tla.

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from Škrip Orkestra, released April 16, 2010

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