There's no mercy for us in this mad world we tread,
Silicone ******* hips, lips have captured every broadcast instead.
Life raises the bar: higher, tougher, more extreme,
I don't even understand how we still manage to redeem.
Every day there's a war: blood is shed for Freedom's name,
We try to capture our Love in battle, again and again.
And we celebrate our victories loudly through the night,
Only to start it all over in the morning, with hangover's blight.
Then more and more often we visit the House of God,
Bringing our sorrows, trying to wash away the fraud.
Maybe God doesn't care whether you believe or not,
What matters to Him is your soul — what kind of man you've got.
The body is frail — an altar of sin and lust so low,
But the soul is pure, light, beautiful, and immortal, you know.
It will leave Him on the Day of Judgement's final call,
And be born a New Man, following the Covenants all.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth — and sell it all for a higher price,
The Last Judgement: it's already here — don't wait for its device.
The darkness has come: Yershalaim, the Great City, has passed away,
***** is already burning, and Gomorrah melts under the grey.
And it's unknown if Aurora will return to us with the dawn,
To open our eyes, by lies tightly drawn.
Though the sleep of drugs is sweet — the soul's vile decay,
But the hour will come, and awakening to light will find its way.
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 11:24 AM UTC
There's no mercy for us in this mad world we tread,
Silicone ******* hips, lips have captured every broadcast instead.
Life raises the bar: higher, tougher, more extreme,
I don't even understand how we still manage to redeem.
Every day there's a war: blood is shed for Freedom's name,
We try to capture our Love in battle, again and again.
And we celebrate our victories loudly through the night,
Only to start it all over in the morning, with hangover's blight.
Then more and more often we visit the House of God,
Bringing our sorrows, trying to wash away the fraud.
Maybe God doesn't care whether you believe or not,
What matters to Him is your soul — what kind of man you've got.
The body is frail — an altar of sin and lust so low,
But the soul is pure, light, beautiful, and immortal, you know.
It will leave Him on the Day of Judgement's final call,
And be born a New Man, following the Covenants all.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth — and sell it all for a higher price,
The Last Judgement: it's already here — don't wait for its device.
The darkness has come: Yershalaim, the Great City, has passed away,
***** is already burning, and Gomorrah melts under the grey.
And it's unknown if Aurora will return to us with the dawn,
To open our eyes, by lies tightly drawn.
Though the sleep of drugs is sweet — the soul's vile decay,
But the hour will come, and awakening to light will find its way.
🎵 You can also listen to this poem as a song on my YouTube channel:
https:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqYN1uN_ee0. This poem was originally in Russian on my Proza.ru: https://proza.ru/2026/02/18/383
