A Pack of Cards
Oh, queens, aces beside them and kings
and all the minions serve them and jacks.
I don’t play 'em, ’m not excited w/the things.
A voice – “I'll take them, if you don’t me object”.
Diamonds, clubs, spades and beautiful hearts –
symbols of sway, eternal suits,
forced to being shuffled by infidel hands,
those fiery came from infernal loots.
And they are chosen, ones of them – trumps,
laying above the stifling suffering world
of the rest covered, beaten and slumped,
swinging round an` round in a devilish whirl.
An` the pack is shuffled by the hands on an` on
‘cause of friction they get one wicked spark.
Devil’s laughing at it in his own Babylon,
I’m now in his hands as one petty card.
There is a war on for your mind: http://www.infowars.com/
My page on a Russian site: http://www.stihi.ru/avtor/boreaus