Ostoskeskus ja krouvi

First there was a field, then ten houses, a mall and in the middle a tavern

There the turf smashers and divorced broads taste their beer
There sit the dark and the collars, fighting over their earnings
It's the cradle of suburb culture, it's the essence of many lives
There the turf smashers and divorced broads taste their beer

Grain grew and waved, heads of architects
Even the wise and intelligent
From the elements created large boxes
Brought people from the potato field
There boys from Karelia and Ostrobothnia
Moved their axes in their containers
Marital bliss soon ended in court
The tavern remained their home

Jukebox plays its black sorrows
How true those stories tell
The experienced singer is unhappy
Maybe the only psychiatrist
Having played his trump card knows only
That closed gates are behind him
Only the bouncer understands him now
If only there's a fiver left

There the turf smashers and divorced broads taste their beer
There sit the dark and the collars, fighting over their earnings
It's the cradle of suburb culture...