I'M Moving To Russia

That's it I'm moving to Russia to write with the kings Dostoevsky and Tolstoy to sit in the cafes and watch the pretty blond Russik girls Cook hot in winter and get kicked out for talking too much and knowing too much and loving too much and believing in God too much and I'll have to leave my little Russik girls with blond hair sent to the army at 18 and Send my ass to the Gulags to kick ass and break rocks, lay down the railway tracks that spans into winter snowy deserts and dance with Cossack and write with Solzhenitsyn. Then those girls they'll miss me and sing songs about me dancing in circles and those men shall honor me paint my face in Red Square. Partisans will fire rifles off in cold mornings and afternoons and evenings, Go down to Serbia and Macedonia get myself a pretty girl, a good one who smiles all the time and tears up only on happy occassions, those Russian girls they're nice, but too wild. Send off my words and those hearts will sigh with hands on cheek leaning and listening to scum filled poetry about this and that we will dance, oh we will dance Till we die, we will dance and remember our fallen brothers in all the wars our innocent blood was shed for. For the smiles and frowns I go to Russia to meet those girls and give them poetry to sleep with and warm welcoming kisses on their red rose cheeks and I wish you a goodnight Dostoevsky and to you too Tolstoy, Turgenev, and Solzhenitsyn All of you, Rest in peace I'll soon join you, but let me finish my black coffee and talking with those 18 year old Russian soldier girls singing folklore songs from ancestors and Kings. They shall soon sing about me in the square on May 8th.