| The candle burns dark
|
| The rain is knocking on the window,
|
| Summer is a complete lie
|
| Fog hangs in the pines.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Bad weather in the mountains, bad weather,
|
| In this shift with the weather, a puncture,
|
| As if nature is crying for someone
|
| In our camp "Uzunkol".
|
| What are we? |
| We are warm and comfortable
|
| And all evening we drive teas,
|
| If only those who are now on the route,
|
| Tomorrow we could go down to the camp.
|
| All my friends lie
|
| That, they say, the dawn will come,
|
| What, they say, there are edges,
|
| Where there is no bad weather.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Bad weather in the mountains, bad weather,
|
| In this shift with the weather, a puncture,
|
| As if nature is crying for someone
|
| In our camp "Uzunkol".
|
| What are we? |
| We are warm and comfortable
|
| And all evening we drive teas,
|
| If only those who are now on the route,
|
| Tomorrow we could go down to the camp.
|
| And will not break through those clouds
|
| The sun is thick blood,
|
| They will only be dispersed by a beam,
|
| That beam is your love.
|
| Chorus:
|
| Bad weather in the mountains, bad weather,
|
| In this shift with the weather, a puncture,
|
| As if nature is crying for someone
|
| In our camp "Uzunkol".
|
| What are we? |
| We are warm and comfortable
|
| And all evening we drive teas,
|
| If only those who are now on the route,
|
| Tomorrow we could go down to the camp. |