She's out in the rain, on the verge of despair.
The smoke is twirling in fresh autumn air,
Ten cigarettes stand for three-four minutes each.
She's waiting for him – he is out of reach.
At last he shows up: "Hey, I'm sorry I'm late",
She sighs with relief. What a wonderful date!
He looks like a tramp, and she looks like a whore.
A flawless match. They accept and adore
The real each other with no pretending.
But if they could simply imagine the ending!

Some casual sex, brandy, vodka and weed –
The days of the youth. They are perfect with it.
The twenties will bring unforgettable nights,
Mash notes and roses. She'll be mesmerized
Unless one damned ring is the end of the end -
Routine will ruin their castles of sand.

Today she is only the pride of his pride,
A bit of fluff. Sex? Well, they two never mind.
But they are the victims you can't really blame -
Tomorrow this story will have a new name.
They'll have their freedom eroded by oaths
Of love, so pristine. I'm sick of them both!
It's time to grow up if it's not way too late -
The concept of love stands for fear and fate.
Love is alcohol multiplied by their tears,
The number of both will increase in some years.

Some casual sex, brandy, vodka and weed –
The days of the youth. They are perfect with it.
The twenties will bring unforgettable nights,
Mash notes and roses. She'll be mesmerized
Unless one damned ring is the end of the end
Routine will ruin their castles of sand.

Ten years have passed, she is still in despair.
She lies in their bed, breathing close heavy air.
Ten cigarettes stand for three-four minutes each.
She's waiting for him – he is out of reach.
He shows up drunk in his torn baggy clothes,
She leers at him. What a night for them both!
She looks like an ugly and worn-out whore.
They're no more able to love and and adore
The real each other with no pretending.
But they had a way to escape from this ending.