My brothers are no gentlemen,
But they are nothing if not gentle,
See, if you love us we will be
The rains you’re calling suns,
But if you preach we will misquote you mental.
Full moon is now gold,
As are lines on the river.
Blue hour is too short.
Wake up to being terrified:
This day puts an end to all restrictions and all laws,
Sit up and join in the greatest joys,
For from now on for that reason Earth knows no wars.
Get drunk with me,
Get drunk on Earl ****** Grey,
No hate, no glory,
Flags are roting into gray
You danced with me in the blessings,
And we didn’t part with the coming of borders.
This is why we’re called friends,
While the first made us brothers.
Show me the streets that would answer my cravings.
And I will gladly dye all your threads.
I say get in the way of that preachers.
Saying ******’s a sin and justifyn’ ****** with fables.
If god’s love (and god’s love), homophobia is sin, turn those tables.
And then abortion’s a sin but there are some expections.
It goes something like “all of life’s sacred but not life of a *******”.
Yeah, dumb joke, but it hurts, it don’t tickle.
But I still pray to saints for love and unity and friendship.
As a goliard in cell I follow Lord while damning all the priestlings.
This is ******* reggae not sounding soft beneath C.I.S. city sellings.
Take me to the place I dream of,
Where the main word is teacher,
And that’s whom all the hymns are for.
Where a boy’s first hero and a girl’s
First love’s a random upper-class kid,
And that’s whom all the poems are for.
That’s where we hug in public
Because the trend for hatred
Never got resurrected after dying in gulags.
That’s where I don’t feel pain
When we don’t meet for months, as the trend for loyalty
Came from the east and didn’t leave no place for gags.
In Russian there’s a song “mama, mama is the main word”.
Fire and water,
Tsunami and blaze in the forest,
Love is now broken,
The thief and the knight, the fighting gone global.
Because sand of the sea
doesn’t match with the mountain’s snow.
Wolves don’t like oaks.
Just one month they loved one another,
But can’t tell what for.
And it’s nothing but their pain
The knight is busy getting drunk with dad,
While the thief is not done bleeding
Because his called him things real bad.
Now that they switch to blade which they throw, but the both miss on purpose, “why won’t you **** me?”, “ I can’t stand the thought or your blood running cold before mine does”. That was the answer and an air kiss.
End of storm,
Back to rivers
End of fire
Black as saints’ hearts,
That’s how grass fields now glow.
And they lay down
On them, blessed
With ache all over
Their bodies where dreams flow.
And there is a painting
On oaks wolves painted
Using the sand and the snow.