Pachka Sigaret

I sit and look into a foreign sky from a foreign window
And I don't see a single familiar star
I traveled all the roads back and forth
But couldn't return, look and hear

But if there's a pack of cigarettes in my pocket
Then everything is not so bad on this ordinary day
And a ticket for the plane with silver wings
That when taking off, leaves only a shadow on the ground

And no one wanted to be guilty without fault
And no one wanted to bury their hands in the sand
Without music, the world is not beautiful in peace
Without music, one doesn't want to disappear

But if there's a pack of cigarettes in my pocket
Then everything is not so bad on this ordinary day
And a ticket for the plane with silver wings
That when taking off, leaves only a shadow on the ground