The Dirt By Margarita Pushkina

You took me out, the door is closed, But I don't mind I'd like get lost, And you can shoot yourself, it's nice, They will say it's only whim and lies, They will ask you make it twice. I'll go away and I don't care, You know yourself, where is my stare, I know Red Lantern's avenue's gonna make me not remember you night by night and night anew. Please, stop your lie, stop what you do crafty lass, I can buy all I do not fear I confess. Oh, it is dirt, it doesn't hurt, It gives me power and it makes me lord to send in hell manners to lose control to take off masks to be myself, not some doll, And prizing nothing at all. Oh, living product is around, The fire's in eyes, the frost's in heart, I chose the one who's very tall for the pleasure without soul And, of course, I got it all. She doesn't talk, she doesn't drink, She doesn't disturb, she lets me think, She is obedient, she is smart, She is doing everything she must, Check is paid and night is hard. Please, stop your lie, stop what you do crafty lass, I can buy all I do not fear I confess. Oh, it is dirt, it doesn't hurt, It gives me power and it makes me lord to send in hell manners to lose control to take off masks to be myself, not some doll, And prizing nothing at all. P.S. This is my translation of poem by Margarita Pushkina (song by heavy metal band Aria)