Ёлка - Прованс (Американская версия на английском)
A cozy, chic café
With wicker furniture laid on the street
Where red wine freely flows
Pulled straight from cellars below big Chateaus
In your view it would seem
That my head is chock full of stupid dreams
But my intuition
Says these dreams will come to fruition
Cuz at 7:22 tomorrow I'll be passing through
Boryspil, ready to fly, and hoping that we don't die
Praying for the pilot's steady hands as we take off and safely land
Somewhere close to Paris, and then a hop, skip, and jump to Provence.