Текст песни Deer Hunter's Blues (Bill Hicks) с переводом

Sitting up in a tree, with your oranges on

And your fingers so stiff they feel they’d just snap

If you push on them wrong--and you love it like that

You make every move as slow as you can

You keep your eyes open, your breathe soft and shallow

You cradle your Twelve Gauge, she’s as sweet as a baby

And then it’s a Ten-Point, and I don’t mean maybe!

He’s nibbling the leaves, he’s looking around

An Indian Prince, a discrete apparition:

His coat is so perfect you’re not sure if you see him

Except for his nose and his sparkling eye

You breathe even softer, he moves even closer

A breeze brushes your face, a leaf falls between you

You look down the barrel, drop your sight in the notch

You steady your shoulder, you click off the safety

(Bridge) And right at that moment, lasting nearly forever

You see millions and millions and millions and millions of barbeque grills

And millions of guys in plaid shirts and aprons

And millions of TVs with bright football games

And millions of cars going millions and millions of places

With millions of drivers with dour grim faces…

And after that moment is finally gone

And you look down the sights, Mr. Buck has done vanished

Like a rainbow, if you happen to turn your head for a second

(break here)

The sun’s finally up now, and the forest floor’s steaming

And you take one last sip and stuff your flask back in your pocket

And climb down the planks you nailed up on that tree

And walk out of the woods, and head on down to the Xrds

For a Pepsi, some Nabs, and a daily newspaper

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