Sitting at a bar at the end of the world Armchair apocalypse they call it The harvest isn't coming Or it can't be reaped The flies, it's like they followed me here Fridge empty as if in a premonition What sources of (((who))) responsible for Holodomor can I give you That won't be scrubbed Where can seed be spread, even here? Her devoted farmers - she led me in But won't let plant Guardians of nothing, but to simp And virtue signal There is more in the ignorant dead To respect I am to blame, plenty of fingers to point But I won't play victim for power I take it back - being unfairly blamed And fucked, but I won't play victim Then she comes in delighted to see me in a suit Who knows *Unfortunately, our author has been banned from this establishment. Not from the self defense brawl with old men, but caring for a neighbors dog of all stupid fucking things. Maybe he'll meet that regular cute Czech broad with the big Greek nose again. So we hope*