Got my boots on but I'm craving кефир

Текст песни оригинал:

[Verse 1]
Walked in after midnight,
Cash in my hand,
Boots muddy, hat crooked,
Small town, small plan.
Chilled air in the freezer,
Bell rings on the door,
Shelves lined with bottles
But I want something more.

[Verse 2]
Guy behind the counter,
Spits and says, "Чё надо, брат?
Whiskey, rye, or bourbon—
Pick your poison, take a shot."
I laugh and say, "Позволь смешно спросить:
You got кефир left behind the racks?"
He shrugs, grins, and shakes his head,
No vodka, man, just old milk in the back.

[Chorus]
Got my boots on but I'm craving кефир,
East in my blood and West in my beard.
Yeah, I'm stuck somewhere funny, split right down the line,
Just want a taste of home with my country time.
(Just want a taste of home! Кефир, кефир)

[Bridge]
I see Mama's kitchen lit up in my mind,
Bread baking, radio on, sweeter days behind.
Now it's banjos and barstools, not samovars and bread,
But this bottle of kefir calls me back instead.

[Chorus]
Got my boots on but I'm craving кефир,
East in my blood and West in my beard.
Yeah, I'm stuck somewhere funny, split right down the line,
Just want a taste of home with my country time.

[Solo] [Harmonica improv]