(bene)
"Sloboda je luxus, to nie je žiadna sranda",
napíše možno o 40 rokov dáky chalan.
No, teraz jej mám plné ruky, je klzká jak neistota, vieš?
1968-krát denne mi napadne, že najlepšie by bolo aj tak neísť odtiaľ preč.
A v zapätí "nie!", musel som ísť
a nie kvôli Bohu, čo mame zakázali,
ale kvôli tomu všetkému,
čo nemohlo byť a videl som jak sa to stráca s nami.
A teraz sa strácam ja v tých pochybnostiach,
či aj zajtra bude práca, ha? Alebo čo by bolo, kebyže som zostal.
A zas raz cez prestávku vediem svoj vnútorný blábol,
jediné súkromné vlastníctvo, čo sme si užívali s láskou.
Myslím na sestru Viktóriu, snáď jej to raz vysvetlím všetko.
Otec! Podobne ako ja si sa bál starnutia,
tak sme radšej ušli,
aby si nemal na očiach, že si už dedko. Haha!
Ver mi, že nám chýbate, ale naše mini trio muselo odísť, vieš?
Viem, je to zložité, ale mal som pocit, ako by sme nežili.
A ver mi, že mám slzy v očiach,
keď si spomeniem, že Viki má zajtra meniny.

(lyrik)
Všetko najlepšie k meninám,
teta Viki, najskôr to bolo
ťažké, už sme si zvykli.
Privítala nás pevnina.
Welcome to America!

(lyrik)
Vďaka ti, daddy, za šialené plány, za ten knowledge,
vďaka ti za splatený college a to množstvo paník,
vďaka ti za prvý cool Disney World a prehajdákané
prachy, čo chýbali nám na nájomnom, keď bolo ho treba zaplatiť.
Odišli sme, keď som bol malý, okolo hraníc
tma a drát, zanechali lásky, zronený detský list ťa čaká
na našom tajnom mieste, Jani, neodpustil som si ten plač,
lebo sme ležali v studenej sále s nápisom Immigrants.
Sa zviechame z dna, v spleti tých bohov, zmesi tých rás,
chytení v multikultúrach, denne vydrieš pre nás kúsok luck.  
Kým Neil Gaiman nájde American Gods, poviem ti
ako chutí strach zo života v diktatúrach, my son.

(jared paul)
Starý otec fled the rodná zem to escape invasion,
An empire masquerading
As a revolutionary worker's state. Wait!
Socialism is not dictatorship, but that's exactly what they made it.
Welcome to America!
where freedom for all just means the right to slave behind the devil's walls
instead of inside the countries He decides to bomb
Welcome to America! To the free!
Where the Dream is possible to attain  
as long as you're cis gender, hetero, white and male
Otec! they hated us when we crossed the ocean
made fun of the way you spoke, said we undercut their wages
but we kicked and clawed, fought and made our way.
Now we dream of crossing back across the waves,
but really now, do we see—the way they treat Syrian refugees,
muslim bans and deported workers screaming.
They came escaping violence just like we did.

___


(bene)
In 40 years maybe a bloke will write
that freedom is luxury, it’s worth the fight.
Now I have a handful of it, it’s slippery as ice and I grieve
1968 times a day I think it would’ve been better not to leave
But then it’s “no!” I had to go,
not for God, they put him in front of a shooting squad
but for all that couldn’t have been
and for us and how we were sinking in-between
And now I’m sinking in that doubt - Am I gonna get paid?
And what could have been if I had stayed.
On my break, once again the inner blether
The only private property we could enjoy forever.
Thinking about little Vicky, how I’m gonna explain
Why we chose to escape from the pain
Father, just like me you were afraid of going mad
Now you don’t have to face you’ve become a granddad. Haha.
Believe me, we miss you but our little trio had to leave, you see?
I know it’s hard but it felt like every day was grey
And believe me I have tears in my eyes
When I know it’s my sister Vicky’s name day.

(lyrik)
Happy name day, Aunt Vicky,
at first it was tricky, now it’s fitting
The new land welcomed us
Welcome to America

(lyrik)
Thank you daddy for the crazy plans and the knowledge
thank you for the paid-for college and the panic
thank you for the cool Disney world and the wasted money
when we skipped the rent and you thought it was funny.
We left when I was so small, round the borders
through dark corners and the wire, left behind the lovers
there’s a sad kid’s letter waiting for you at our secret place
and Jenny, I couldn’t keep a straight face,
lying in the cold hall, being called Immigrants, getting up from the stone floor,
too many gods and mixed up races, everyday you fight for our little piece of luck
until Neil Gaiman finds his American gods, we need to get this done
let me tell you what fear of life in a dictatorship feels like, my son.