Tuesday, December 04, 2007
the Russian winter night'twas a cruel Russian winter night
on the notorious streets of Leningrad.
Carcasses and corpses, some breathe with life,
they smudge the boulevards so fair.
blood, spilled, sprinkled like stardust
on a canvas white as snow.
the quiet of artillery fire
cuts through the cruel Russian woe.
alexei and elizabeth stay huddled close,
two emaciated bodies warm and welcome.
he utters a cruel Russian lie
to this lady pure and dear.
T34s mow through crowds,
moan, groan and curse the sky.
some see their feet get cold or rot
some others watch their mothers die.
hidden in a spot of warmth,
in the cruel Russian winter night
was it the freezing air or the thin hay?
or their hasty breath so joined?
they melt into each other arms,
warmth succeeds the world cold and dry.
but to get this lady dear,
he uttered this cruel Russian lie.
the lady dear lay
atop our Russian hero,
loved and tainted,
a passion in flames below subzero.
he stops her, rolls over,
as cool as ice, this Russian lie.
our lady in tears as a few shots ring,
shiny metals lodged in his hapless spine.
a cruel loveless Russian boy,
and his cruel Russian lie.
our lady naked again, and cold,
in the Russian winter night.
