Lessons and sermons, 
the history of the Germans,
the closing of your curtains, nowadays,
Sseem to make impression,
while its not about the question,
and just about the whiskey in your face.
 
Well if all is understood,
than your teacher does no good,
and your brain is just a simple upper case.
And your eyes they can be closed,
for the mind to rule your toes.
And the whiskey in you hand will know the way. 
 
Marry me in a tree by the fields full of green.
In a dream by the wondrous blue sea.
Where the law of the land is a gift from your hand.
In a song called the flowering tree. 
 
Lessons and sermons, 
the history of the Russians,
the meaningless discussions
about your faith. Look before you grumble,
into the beauty of the humble.
Coz your whiskey’s just a bottle lemonade.
 
As dusk turns to dawn, 
and your dreams are forgone,
the  sunset returns into day.
And like a thousand miles away,
from wherever you came.
Yes the whiskey is still laughing in your face. 
 
Marry me in a tree by the fields full of green.
In a dream by the wondrous blue sea.
Where the law of the land is a gift from your hand.
In a song called the flowering tree. 
 
Lessons and sermons,
the history has determined,
that nothing is certain nowadays.
Except the day of your birth,
and the end of the earth,
and the bottom of your bottle lemonade. 
 
While you’re lighting your candles
for killers and scandals,
your lifetime is ticking away.
Coz all that you do,
is a matter of view,
where nobody can get into.
 
Marry me in a tree by the fields full of green.
In a dream by the wondrous blue sea.
Where the law of the land is a gift from your hand.
In a song called the flowering tree. 
 
Lessons and sermons,
desires and burdens,
standards, deceive and betray.
Love and connection,
hate and protection.
Whiskey or a fresh lemonade