Pushkin's Dustbin (The Honourable Ones Are Crying)
by @reece
It was a dissonant melody that made the lonesome mole weep from his blind eyes
and there were mascara stains on the face of a pensive prostitute, lady in the streetlights
When the orchestral waves wound up at the shores of a sandblasted city
the denizens were too afraid to speak out against tyranny, and they died
Wistful wonderment in the souls of the children as they walk hand in hand
and experience the crumbling of wonton rocks in the skies of their homeland
A celestial boom, droning on the streets, and the women are beat
Are you outraged yet?