Russian Masters

You’re cold like the long Russian winter

Like the masters before you

You're practiced and malicious

Airbrushed from existence

You're praxis pernicious

Deleted and filed

No one dares speaks my name

With such obfuscation

Even I couldn't tell you (ya)

If I saw it coming like old uncle vanya

Or like in the purges I was

surprised in the night

Now I’m cold like the long Russian winter

Like the masters before me

Skilled in subtle tyranny

With no hesitation

All evidence cremated

Buried forgotten

I won’t even remember the name

Through such propaganda

Nobody could see

If they’ll figure it out like Leon Trotsky

Or like Alexander Malchenko

Disappeared without a trace

We’re all cold like the long Russian winter

Like the dictators before us

methodically sinister

Catalogued and curated

As if we’re the stazi

Perfection fixated

dissent expunged like a stain

With existence as rotten

Fear of being forgotten

We die lionized like Peter Kropotkin

Or like a twenty first century Anna Karenina

Throw ourself under a bus