Текст песни Арик Крупп - Десять пальцев

How many of us happiness in life?
Drink after a separation.
Joy a little more often,
What should be on science.

Ribbons cinnamon
A leisurely pace.
Bird spreading wings
The song will remind you.

        The forest and lakes, and snow in the mountains.
        Oh, ten fingers on our hands.

How many of us in the life of sorrow?
Drink before parting.
The quarrel without any quarrel,
Bitter weeping sounds.

In its own walls chained,
Why, no one will come.
Dark familiar window -
So, no one is waiting.

        Bitterness, resentment, sand castles.
        Oh, ten fingers on our hands.

How many are in that life Kruchina?
Drink - so no reason.
Neither before that there is no case.
Days, as a great Monday.

The wind is howling outside the windows.
Raindrops on them.
Somewhere hidden two,
With whom I could for three.

        Something's bitter I smoke cigarettes.
        Oh, a lot of days in our calendar.