Doge
心里话该给谁说
Who can I tell what is on my mind?
心里话该给谁说
Who can I tell what is on my mind?
心里话该给谁说
Who can I tell what is on my mind?
心里话该给谁说
Who can I tell what is on my mind?
没有一个能信的
Not one of them can be trusted
我费了那么多力气
I've put in so much effort
就好像在对牛弹琴
It's like playing music to a cow
全部都别来烦我
All of you, leave me alone
怎么没有人懂我
How come nobody understands me?
不开心的时候我就会瞎几把乱叫
When I'm unhappy, I just bark any fucking nonsense
不开心的时候我就会瞎几把乱叫
When I'm unhappy, I just bark any fucking nonsense
不开心的时候我就会瞎几把乱叫
When I'm unhappy, I just bark any fucking nonsense
不开心的时候我就会瞎几把乱叫
When I'm unhappy, I just bark any fucking nonsense
心里话该给谁说
Who can I tell what is on my mind?
心里话该给谁说
Who can I tell what is on my mind?
心里话该给谁说
Who can I tell what is on my mind?
心里话该给谁说
Who can I tell what is on my mind?
Notes
Stress becomes a meme, failed communication becomes an animal fable, and a stray dog finds the one thing it can hold onto: the beat.
压力山大
压力山大 means pressure as huge as a mountain, but it also sounds like 亚历山大, the Chinese form of Alexander. A 2011 vocabulary study records that sound-play. The phrase makes stress into a ready-made joke; repeating it beside “who can I tell?” lets the joke carry real isolation.
心里话
心里话 literally means the words inside one’s heart, the things said sincerely rather than for display. Repeating the question of whom to tell makes the track search for an addressee. It is a revealing counterpoint to the many songs ordering others to be quiet: speech becomes valuable when it might finally carry something private.
求爷爷告奶奶
求爷爷告奶奶 literally distributes the pleading between grandpa and grandma. As an idiom it means asking anyone who might help, with a strong sense of lowering oneself and exhausting possible connections. The next line cancels the whole effort: not one of those people can be trusted. The complaint is as much about humiliating dependence as loneliness.
对牛弹琴
对牛弹琴 means playing a string instrument to a cow: effort wasted on an audience that does not understand. The older fable also concerns the mismatch between expression and listener. In a song about asking who can hear one’s private thoughts, the musical image is especially pointed. The speaker is not merely talking to a wall; the very thing he makes fails to communicate.
距离产生美
This familiar formulation says distance produces beauty: too much proximity can spoil an idealized view. Here it follows “leave me alone” and precedes “nobody understands me.” The speaker asks for separation while also wanting to be understood, giving the polished saying an uneasy place in the verse.
瞎几把乱叫
瞎 and 乱 both make the noise directionless; 几把 adds a coarse intensifier, and 叫 can be a human shout or an animal cry. The translation chooses “bark” because the next image makes the speaker a dog. The lyric briefly calls its own performance nonsense, then turns that unruly sound into determination.
野狗
野狗 belongs to no household and has no owner to obey. Earlier songs use dogs to degrade enemies; here the speaker claims the animal for himself. After begging has failed, dependence is exchanged for feral persistence. The next line gives that persistence its object: the beat becomes something to chase and seize, even when human listeners offer no understanding.
追着伴奏死着咬
死着咬 intensifies the grip: bite with everything and refuse to release. 伴奏 is the instrumental backing, so this animal violence is redirected into the physical work of rapping. The ending answers the opening problem of having nobody to confide in. The beat may not reply, but it is something the voice can keep engaging.
Independent, AI-assisted English translation. Not artist-authorized. Sources: Genius · original lyric transcript.