Song of the Summer 2012: We Have A Winner!

After weeks and weeks of nominating songs, voting for winners, and arguing about the results, we finally have the official winners of the TBTL 2012 Song of the Summer contest. Congrats to our polish friends Muzyka Konca Lata who won the hearts of TBTL voters with their song "Dokad".

Click here if you want to listen (and re-listen and re-listen) at their MySpace page. Even if you don't know the words, it would be hard to find a more summer-sounding song.

Thanks, everyone, for voting. We had an impressive turnout at the polls this year. (Nope, that's not a "Poles" joke.)

And don't forget, you can listen to the top 40 SOTS nominations via a handy-dandy playlist here.

-- Andrew

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  Sopot wrote...

  Lyrics

  September 12, 2012 6:16 am

  I logged in only to provide you with the lyrics. I believe it would be difficult to understand it for Americans since there are a lot of references to our childhood here in Poland. On the other hand there is line "We will smoke a pipe with the Indians" :) We often played Indians and cowboys which influenced me so much that I visit the USA every year just to spent few days in West (Lincoln, Tombstone :) Enjoy ! Where do we go today I’ll go left, you go right, none of us goes straight on Leave the door ajar Who knows if it’s really the end We’re both twenty Have no money, few clothes and experiences Big common little things Please, let’s not split up for good… I still remember the vacations when You gave me powdered lemonade on your finger in the dovecote Forest dreams before dinner, we fought Nazis with our sticks Suntanned with the dust of summer, we shot soap bubbles at flies Drinking wine in the orchard, the grandfather’s belt, that’s not… That’s not rubbish, that’s not rubbish, my love This bound us forever That’s not rubbish, my love I keep hiding my child From the guy in a suit and tie Yours is constantly tempted by snake With an empty, ripe apple with seeds But we will not give in yet Come at two to the playground by the chestnut tree We will renew a hundred of vows, We will smoke a pipe with the Indians, because… I still remember the vacations when You gave me powdered lemonade on your finger in the dovecote Forest dreams before dinner, we fought Nazis with our sticks Suntanned with the dust of summer, we shot soap bubbles at flies Drinking wine in the orchard, the grandfather’s belt, that’s not That’s not rubbish

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